#steddie one shot

[ghosttotheparty]

saw this prompt @newgrangespirals @steddieas-shegoes; needed to write it but also i kind of derailed it bc my brain has a mind of its own and its focus is steddie so i apologize also on ao3

He’s met with silence. 

Eddie supposes Murray Bauman must only ever be met with silence after speaking; he doesn’t seem the type of man to hold an easy, casual conversation. Especially now. 

Even Argyle is silent, his fork stalled on its way to his mouth as he looks from Murray to Jonathan, whose face is red, then Nancy, who’s equally flushed. 

Eddie looks at the table, his vision blurring. His hands are shaking.

“Murray,” Joyce says in a lethally calm voice. Eddie had forgotten she was here. “Go.”

“What do you mean, go?” Murray says, his voice quieter like he’s starting to sense what he’s just done. “We’re in—“

“Murray,” Joyce snaps. Eddie flinches. His fingers are knotting with the hem of the tablecloth, his food uneaten on his plate. “Go. I will deal with you later.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Murray’s chair scrapes across the uneven tile floor, and his footsteps retreat. And then there’s silence again. Tense, tense silence. 

“Steve,” Nancy says quietly, and Eddie looks up at her, glaring even though she hasn’t done anything to him. Jonathan looks at her too, anxious. Joyce sips her water, her hand shaking, and Hopper has his head down, his face hidden in his hands. 

“I’m good,” Steve says shortly, and Eddie looks at him, his stomach flipping. Steve is smiling a little, but it’s an awful smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He pushes his plate away with a breath like he feels just as sick as Eddie does, and he nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s really here. “I’m…”

“Steve, it— it wasn’t—“

“You told him my name,” Steve snaps, looking at her across the table, his eyes wide. Nancy looks like she’s going to start crying, and Eddie finds that he really doesn’t care if she does. “And you still…”

He laughs. Dryly, humourlessly. Eddie feels like he might throw up. 

Steve closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he feels a migraine coming on, and he laughs again. 

“Steve—“ Jonathan tries to say, but Steve just holds his hands up, shaking his head. 

“I’m just…”

He pushes his plate farther away, moving his chair back with a loud scrape, and then he’s leaving too, going upstairs. Eddie watches him go, watches Robin get up to follow him before she deflates, seeing the way Steve gestures for her to stay, to leave him alone. Robin’s hands are shaking, and Eddie can practically feel the anger radiating from her. 

The silence is back after a door slams upstairs. 

Joyce sets her glass down loudly, and she puts her hands flat on the table next to her plate, taking a deep, shaky breath. Hopper says her name softly, but she holds a hand up, shushing him. 

“I have never…” she starts slowly, her voice shaking with anger. “I have never been more disappointed in my life.”

“Mom—”

“Jonathan,” Joyce snaps, fixing a look on him, and he falls quiet. “…I did not raise you to be the other man. And Nancy, I…” She puts her hands on the table again, taking a measured breath before she looks at Nancy. “I am not your mother, but I think I am well within my rights to say I’m disappointed in you, too.”

“Ms Byers—”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you,” Joyce says calmly before she touches her face, rubbing her chin anxiously as she stares at her plate in front of her. Nobody is eating anymore. Eddie still feels sick, but he also feels like he’s blended into the wall, like everybody’s forgotten that he’s here at all.  He looks at the table, at the fraying tablecloth that’s clutched in his fingers. 

“Unbelievable,” Joyce mutters to herself. “I can’t…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Nancy takes a shuddering breath. She might be crying. 

“Eddie, dude.”

Eddie looks up, his eyes meeting Argyle’s. He’s looking over at Eddie anxiously, his head tilted a little bit, and as they look at each other, the others look at Eddie too. And suddenly he isn’t in the wall, but he’s the centrepiece of the table, the showstopper, the freak. 

It’s like they all remember what Murray said at the same time. 

“Eddie,” Joyce says, her voice softer than it was a moment ago. Kinder. Eddie looks at her. “Honey, if… if it is true. None of us have any problem with it.”

If it is true.

They all know it is. Eddie can tell just by looking at them that they all know. 

He feels so… small. Like he’s fifteen again. Like he’s new in high school, like he’s walking down the hallway and feeling all the stares, the eyes and eyes and eyes looking, watching, analysing, judging. Even though Joyce’s gaze is kind, and Hopper gives him a slight nod when their eyes meet. 

Eddie’s chest feels so tight he can’t breathe, each breath shallow and weak, and he’s kind of lightheaded, and he feels fucking nauseous. 

“I, uhm.” He clears his throat, his stomach churning, and he untangled his fingers from the tablecloth, taking a sharp breath. “Excuse me,” he says quickly, breathlessly, moving his chair back so fast it tips on the uneven tiles. He feels like he might pass out as he goes upstairs, hearing Argyle say something quietly behind him.

Upstairs feels even quiet than downstairs. Like every room could have an echo. 

Eddie finds a room that’s empty except for some cardboard boxes, and he shuts the door behind himself before he goes to the opposite side of the room, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to the wall. It’s cold. 

He’s breathing too fast, and his head feels light, like if his eyes were open his vision would be dark. He wraps his arms around himself tightly, squeezing as he exhales until he wheezes, until there’s nothing in his lungs, and then he inhales as slowly as he can. In, in, in, until he can’t anymore. He holds it. Exhales. Does it all over again. 

Until he can breathe without suffocating. 

He turns to rest his back on the wall, and he slides down to the floor, closing his eyes and pulling his knees to his chest, exhaling shakily. 

He’s never felt like this before. 

He feels so… lonely. 

He feels almost cold, even though sunlight is streaming through the window, beams of golden light glowing across the floor. 

He cries. Even though he tries not to. He can’t help it, and the tears are absorbed by the sleeves of his hoodie. 

Steve’s hoodie. Eddie hates that he’s wearing it, even though Steve brought it just for him. Even though Steve specifically made sure he brought a black one, even though it smells like Steve. Eddie hates that Murray noticed that it’s Steve’s. 

He stays there for a while. Until the sunlight dims. 

He only lifts his head when the door breaks open, and Steve’s voice says, “Eddie?”

Eddie stands quickly, wiping his face and sniffling as Steve finds him and shuts the door behind himself. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, his voice wavering. “You okay?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but his eyes are shining blankly. And Eddie aches. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to. Steve blinks at him, hesitating. 

“I kind of already knew,” he says like it’s a question. “I just…” He exhales, swallowing, and Eddie knows he’s talking about Nancy and Jonathan. It. “I, like, convinced myself I didn’t care? That it— it didn’t matter?” 

Eddie listens, leaning against the wall, watching Steve push his hair back anxiously. 

“I mean— the world was ending, who gives a shit if— if I get cheated on? It’s so fucking stupid.” He doesn’t seem to realize he’s even talking to Eddie. He’s just talking. Saying what he didn’t say downstairs. “But I’m so… Jesus. Hearing it out loud, like— like Murray was fucking proud, like it was funny, I’m just… I don’t know.”

Steve deflates, leaning against the door, looking at Eddie, and his eyes are shining. 

“Embarrassed?”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“...I trusted them,” Steve says quietly, weakly. 

“You trusted them,” Eddie repeats. “What they did is their fault, Steve, you didn’t do anything wrong. Trusting them wasn’t wrong,” he adds adamantly, watching the way Steve’s eyes shine. “You thought they were— they were trustworthy. You didn’t know they’d do something like that.” 

Steve sniffs, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, and Eddie hates himself for thinking he looks beautiful. 

“You have every right to feel hurt,” Eddie says gently. Steve looks at him. He swallows. “And to feel angry.”

“What about you?” Steve asks quietly after a moment. Eddie blinks. 

“What about me?” 

Steve looks at him. His eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s for a moment, intent and searching before he speaks. His voice is so soft. Kind. 

“He just outed you in front of all of us,” he says quietly. “You’re not angry?” 

Eddie blinks again. 

Steve looks at him so kindly. Eddie likes being looked at like this. Like Steve is listening to him even though he isn’t speaking. And Eddie realizes that Steve just knows, that he doesn’t question it. That he knows how Eddie is feeling, but is waiting for him to say it himself.

Eddie’s lip quivers, and he feels like a child again. 

“I…” He hesitates, taking a breath as a wave of nausea washes over him again. Steve just looks at him. “I’ve never come out to anyone,” he says weakly. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. “I’ve never gotten the chance to. My— My dad found some zines in my room when I was fourteen, and I didn’t… I didn’t have to say anything.” His voice is shaking. He’s never told anyone about this, not even Jeff. “The only time I ever heard that man say anything about God was when he was trying to beat the queer out of me,” he says, laughing the way Steve laughed downstairs. Humorless. Almost hysterical. “And he— he called Wayne to tell him everything because he…” 

Eddie trails off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

“I told myself no one would ever know when Wayne took me in, but I swear it was like overnight, the whole town knew,” he chokes. “Because of— of my hair, or my clothes, or— or because people associate queerness with evil and— and Satanism, I don’t fucking know, but everyone knew and I…” 

He covers his face, his face hot with embarrassment as a sob escapes him, and it feels so stupid to be so upset right now, but Steve just waits patiently, listening and looking at him. 

“People keep taking it,” Eddie chokes, his face wet with tears now, looking at Steve desperately. “It’s mine, and people keep taking it from me.” 

Steve nods. 

And then he’s coming close and wrapping his arms around Eddie, and Eddie is crying into his shoulder, his hands clutching at Steve’s shirt the way they clutched at the tablecloth earlier, his fingers gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles ache. He’s shaking. But Steve’s hands feel steady as they run over his back, and Eddie wants to die. 

Because Murray told them to have sex. And Steve is still here, holding Eddie while he cries, even though he knows Eddie is gay, even though Murray told the whole table that Eddie likes Steve, that it’s so painfully obvious that he likes Steve. That he’s pining, yearning. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into Steve’s neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobs, and Steve moves a hand to hold the back of his head, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s curls to cradle his skull. And it’s almost fucking tender, and Eddie doesn’t know how he got here. Or where he’s going to go. 

Steve is murmuring to him. Quiet I got yous and It’s okays, his voice breathy and soft in Eddie’s ear. Eddie melts against him, and Steve holds him tightly, swaying with him, rubbing his back and scratching his fingertips over his scalp carefully the way he does when Eddie has nightmares. 

Eddie whines into his neck, choking on his breath, and Steve’s arm tightens around his waist like he’s preparing to catch Eddie if he falls. 

“I know,” he whispers softly. “It’s not fair.” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

It’s not fair. 

It’s fucking bullshit. 

The whole world thinks it knows him better than he knows himself. Even if they’re fucking right. It’s not fair. He’s never gotten to speak for himself, never gotten to really introduce himself. 

He aches when he finally stops crying, his fingers relaxing but still holding Steve’s shirt loosely, and his hands are sore. Steve runs his hand through Eddie’s hair. He waits, holding Eddie close even though he isn’t crying anymore, touching him gently, kindly, as Eddie catches his breath. 

“You know what I’m angriest at?” Eddie asks softly after a few moments, his voice weak and breaking from his crying. Steve touches his head again. 

“What?” Steve whispers. 

“...He’s fucking right.”

Steve is quiet. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as they burn again. 

And then Steve is shifting, holding the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie blinks his eyes open to look at him. Steve looks into his eyes intently, and it’s almost too much, but Eddie can’t look away, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt. 

“About everything?” he whispers softly. Tentatively. 

Eddie looks back and forth between his eyes, and he nods. 

He feels sick again. He can’t breathe. 

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s face, and he’s so fucking warm. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheek so lightly Eddie can barely feel it. And Steve’s face relaxes, like he’s deflating, as he touches Eddie’s face, as his other hand presses into the small of his back. 

“I really fucking hate him,” Steve breathes. His eyes flicker across Eddie’s face, and they linger on Eddie’s mouth. Eddie whispers his name. Steve hesitates, stammering silently for a moment before, “Can you say it?”

Eddie steps back a little, and their hands fall even though they’re still close enough for Eddie to see the green in his eyes. 

“...Say what?” he asks hesitantly. Steve looks at him, his eyes shining, and he looks so desperate suddenly. 

“Everything,” he says breathlessly. “I wanna hear it from you.”

Eddie’s eyes fill with tears, but Steve looks like he’s begging, and Eddie is weak. 

“I’m gay,” he says softly, whispering like he’s worried someone outside might hear. “And I…” He takes a breath. Steve’s eyes look back and forth between Eddie’s like he’s looking for it. “I have, like… a huge fucking crush on you.”

Steve’s eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth like he’s watching his lips form the words. Eddie is trembling. Steve suddenly feels like he’s across the room, like he’s far away even though they’re standing so close. 

“I might fucking be in love with you, Steve, I…” 

He chokes on his breath, and Steve is touching him again, reaching for his face and wiping away his tears carefully, stepping closer. Eddie’s hands find his waist, and he grips his shirt again. 

Steve says his name. 

It always sounds so nice in his mouth. 

“You don’t– You don’t have to,” Eddie says, trying to tear himself away, closing his eyes as Steve holds his face and wipes his tears. “I know, it’s…”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, his hands tightening on Eddie’s cheeks, and he’s so close now, their noses almost brushing. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

 Eddie’s eyes widen. He leans back to see Steve clearly, and Steve looks so nervous that Eddie aches. 

“Really?” Eddie asks weakly. 

“I…” Steve pauses, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and licking his lips, hesitating. “I might be fucking in love with you too,” he whispers. 

Eddie closes his eyes, exhaling as Steve strokes his cheeks again. He gasps for breath when Steve’s forehead touches his, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt before he slides his hands over his waist gently. He can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Steve asks again, his breath soft on Eddie’s face. 

“Yeah,” he chokes. 

Steve’s palms press to Eddie’s cheeks, and Eddie’s hands clutch at Steve’s waist desperately when Steve’s nose nudges his, when their lips brush. He feels like he’s dying. 

But Steve kisses him so softly, so sweetly. Holding his face tenderly in his hands and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him, to check, even though Eddie is holding him against himself, even though Eddie’s chin lifts like he’s subconsciously searching for his mouth again. 

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and Steve is smiling at him. It’s such a soft smile, and Eddie forgets everything that’s happened today. Except Steve’s lips on his. 

“Please,” he breathes. Begs. Pleads. 

Steve kisses him again. One of his hands slides to hold the back of his head again, his fingers threading into Eddie’s curls, and his other shifts down to Eddie’s neck, his fingertips slipping under the hoodie as his thumb brushes over Eddie’s throat so lightly it tickles a little bit. Eddie’s hands press to Steve’s waist and slide to press into the small of his back, and he’s probably wrinkling the fabric of his shirt, but neither of them cares as they tilt their heads, as their lips part. 

They pull away to look at each other after a few moments, close enough that they’re sharing breaths as they both breathe hard, as Steve’s fingertips scratch over Eddie’s scalp lightly and Eddie’s eyelids flutter for a second. And then Steve is tilting his head and leaning down to kiss Eddie’s neck, his fingers twisting in his hair to hold him in place, and Eddie is dying, letting out a whimper as his eyes close and his hands reach for Steve’s arms. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his upper arms, squeezing as Steve presses a slow kiss under his ear. His mouth is so warm. 

Steve kisses him when he lifts his head, and Eddie kisses him back desperately, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck, whining when Steve’s hands find his waist and pull. 

Then Steve pushes, reaching up to hold the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie stumbles back, his fingers tangling in Steve’s hair and tugging when his back hits the wall.  Steve’s hand blocks his head from the wall, and Eddie smiles against his mouth, gasping when Steve’s tongue slips across his lip. 

“Steve,” he gasps, lightheaded as Steve sucks on his lower lip, as one of his hands slides under the hoodie to touch his skin. His palms are a little rough with calluses, scratching the sensitive scar tissue on Eddie’s waist lightly, and Eddie groans. 

Steve pulls away with a gasp, looking at Eddie desperately, frantically, his other hand holding his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his lips are shining, and his hair is a mess, and Eddie wantshimwantshimwantshim—

“Do you wanna leave?” Steve asks, his voice rough, and Eddie looks at his mouth, still panting. “I… I don’t wanna see any of them, I just…” He’s breathless too. His hand runs over Eddie’s scarring again almost mindlessly as his thumb brushes his cheek. “Do you wanna go?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. 

Steve smiles softly, his eyes shining at him, and he leans in to kiss him one more time, caressing his cheek. (Caressing. Jesus.) Eddie hums, savouring it before they part with a quiet, slick noise that seems to echo in the empty room. 

Eddie feels lightheaded again, but he’s smiling like he’s sleepy as Steve shifts his hands to press his chin up, smiling at how pliant Eddie is. Eddie laughs under his breath, his hands holding Steve’s shoulders. 

“I’m so fucking… relieved right now,” Eddie whispers, his head falling to rest on the wall behind him. Steve kisses him again before he pulls him close, hugging him tightly. 

Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, wanting to jump up and wrap his legs around his waist, to cling to him like a koala, wanting to climb inside him, to be as close as fucking possible. Steve exhales roughly, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair. 

Steve holds his hand as they leave, ignoring the others that are gathered in the living room, even though they’re clearly waiting for the two of them. Eddie lets the door slam shut behind them. Steve drives. Eddie reaches over and puts a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently as he looks out the windows and watches the world go by. 

He’s kind of anxious about this, whatever it is. Anxious that he isn’t what Steve thinks he is, what Steve hopes he is, anxious that he isn’t enough for him. 

But he’ll try his best, he knows he will. He’ll bring Steve fucking flowers, he’ll write him fucking poems if it makes him smile. He’ll ravish him the way he deserves, touch him the way he likes, tell him every chance he gets how fucking beautiful he is. He’ll kiss him good morning and learn how to make his coffee just right. He’ll memorize the pattern of his moles and name constellations on his skin. 

He’ll remind him every single day, as long as Steve lets him have him, what he deserves. 

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie prompt #steddie one shot #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things one shot

[mimimunson]

steve always thought he was the more intelligent one in the relationship until he saw eddie solve dustin’s rubix cube whilst smoking a joint and holding a conversation with the kids.

#eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #mine #steve harrington #eddie munson au #steddie au #steve harrington au #stranger things au #established steddie #steddie one shot #steddie imagine #steddie drabble #steddie fluff #modern eddie munson #queer eddie munson #modern steve harrington #bi steve harrington

[fuctacles]

Under pressure

For @subeddieweek Day 1 | M | 1177 | accidental subspace, non-verbal communication, sleepover, Steve-instinctive-Dom-Harrington | Ao3

Eddie avoided fights because he was a coward. A pussy, even, he'll admit. But there was a whole other reason for him avoiding sports.

He wasn't a big fan of physical contact. 

But since he's become better friends with Steve Harrington, he's been discovering things about himself. Things he wished would have stayed hidden. Forever.

The first time, it was a tussle for the remote. Eddie refused to watch another episode of whatever the fuck capitalist media was trying to spoon-feed them, while Steve was adamant there was a plot that he was invested in. One elbow to the gut and some pulled hair later, he landed underneath the guy, his weight pinning him to the ground.

Melting his bones.

Soothing.

"You okay?"

Steve sounded concerned about Eddie's sudden silence, and his mind scrambled to salvage his dignity. All he could manage was a groan, which Steve thankfully interpreted as a sign of pain and not the sudden weakness that it was. 

He instantly hopped off of him, apologizing.

Eddie has been avoiding and yearning for the touch ever since.

He had never considered Steve like that, but apparently being sat on was the biggest turn-on for his poor little dick, and now it was all he could think of at night.

His doom comes when he has to sleep over after a night of drinking. Steve insisted they share a bed, that it was alright, and Eddie foolishly believed him. 

It is fine until Steve rolls over to put away his glasses. 

"Shit, sorry. I just gotta..."

They didn't think this through, because Eddie was the one next to the bedside table, the one Steve was trying to reach. He almost crawls over Eddie to accomplish it, his weight heavy on top of him, pressing him to the mattress and making his mind go blank. 

He bites his lip so hard he probably draws blood, but it doesn't stop the whimper Steve's body literally pushed out of him.  Steve freezes. 

"Are you alright?" He drops the glasses and shoots up. "Did I hurt you?"

Eddie can't answer. His brain is screaming at his mouth, but he can't manage a single word, all he can think of is Steve's body back on him, that weight pressing him down, immobilizing him. He could probably reach pure bliss with just that.

When he doesn't get an answer, Steve pulls on his shoulder to flip him on his back. Eddie whines in protest but doesn't have enough control over his muscles to stop him. His shame gets put on display and Steve's eyes widen.

"Eddie?"

His pupils are huge as he blinks owlishly up at his friend.

"You okay?"

Eddie nods.

"Do you need anything?"

You. On me, against me, in me.

He shakes his head slowly, not breaking eye contact. This seems to frustrate Steve.

"Eddie, come on," he groans. "Clearly something's wrong. Do you need water? I can bring you some." He moves to stand up, but Eddie's in the way. He has to throw his leg over him, and Eddie presses his eyes closed, begging his body not to react.

It's enough to alert Steve, though, and he freezes hovering above him, mid-movement. 

"Huh."

It's a soft sound, barely there, and Eddie decides to keep his eyes closed. Maybe if he does, whatever realization Steve has gets forgotten, and he moves on, brings him the damn water, and maybe throws it on him like on a horny dog. Maybe that would help him.

But no, the ‘huh’ is followed by Steve settling down on his hips.

Oxygen escapes him in a whiny breath, and his body presses up without his control, seeking that delicious weight of another body. 

"Want to make out about it?" Steve asks out of the blue like any normal person would in these circumstances. But Eddie doesn't answer him, he can't, and he doesn't know. He can only stare and writhe under him, making tiny sounds of need he can't comprehend. Steve frowns down on him, partially concerned, partially curious. 

"Don't feel like talking?" he asks. Eddie gives him a nod. He hums. "Can you answer some yes or no questions? Nod for a yes and shake your head for no."

Nod.

"You can blink twice if you don't know or don't want to answer. Okay?"

Nod.

"What do you do if you don't want to answer?"

Eddie blinks twice.

"Good. Great." Steve smiles, and Eddie mirrors it through his haze. "Are you feeling alright?"

Nod.

"Do you need water?"

Shake.

"Do you need the bathroom?"

Shake.

"A snack?"

Shake.

Steve considers him, perched on top of his body. Eddie tentatively reaches up, palms resting on his thighs. Steve's gaze follows his fingers, where they just rest with no ill intent, only there to touch.

"Will we talk about it more in the morning?"

Eddie hesitates. Does he want to talk about it? To bring his shame to the light of day, confess the budding crush on his friend? But Steve doesn't seem angry, he's not kicking him out of the bed. He's being soft and gentle and trying to understand. Maybe in the morning, they could understand it together. Tentatively, he nods.

That eases Steve's frown a bit, but he sighs when another problem hits him.

"I don't know what else to ask," he admits with a huff. 

Eddie wants to help, so he slides his hands up, towards his hips, and tries to convey as best as possible where he wants him. He stares into his eyes, begging him to understand.

"Want me to lay down on you?"

He nods furiously, excited to get what he needs. 

Steve looks down. It's a minuscule movement of his eyes, but it's there. He will know if Eddie's hard when he moves, but he needs the heads-up. The bulge in Eddie's sweats is noticeable but not fully there, to Steve's relief. Having his friend under him in such a pliant state is already overwhelming as it is, and he knows Eddie will feel his own chub when he moves. 

"We're just sleeping tonight, alright?" Steve clarifies and Eddie nods without hesitation. "And cuddle a bit, I guess." Eddie nods again.

He moves, watching his friend’s face for any sign of distress. Eddie’s hands slide around him in an embrace that's more comforting than Steve's ready to admit, and soon they're chest to chest, legs tangled, and he has to crane his neck to maintain eye contact.

"That alright?"

Nod.

Eddie's hands squeeze him minutely and Steve settles down against his shoulder, finally resting his full body weight against him.

The man underneath him sighs, and it's like his whole body deflates. He makes a content sound in the back of his throat, and Steve wants to cry. It's so endearing and so comforting to have Eddie trust him like that. To have him turn into mush in his presence. 

He hopes he's not overstepping when he presses his nose to Eddie's neck, inhaling him and softly caressing his skin when he murmurs a "goodnight, Eds."

#sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #steddie #mine #cj x subeddieweek #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie oneshot #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #ff #st #stranger things 4 #steddie one shot #subeddieweek

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 13: Heartbeat - Vampire!Steddie

Summary: The upside down had changed Steve and Eddie forever but, at least their obsession for you hadn't changed. However, instead of your sweet smiles that they craved to see everyday, it was listening to the thumping of your heartbeat.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, vampires, obsession, heartbeat kink, slight choking, threesome (f/m/m), oral (f receiving), praise kink, biting (vampire), discussion of blood, double penetration, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fucked until nearly passing out, subspace, aftercare

PSA: THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. There will be some unprepared booty hole play, but that's because the characters are vampires with special abilities. This is not educational so please, if you're inclined to booty play... prep safely beforehand! (not that this is an educational fic but just need to cover myself here)

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

You were exhausted. The kind of exhaustion where your bones ached, and eyes burned even to keep them open, concentrating on the long drive home from work. All you wanted was a nice warm bath and some greasy food to fill your empty stomach, climb into your bed, and disappear into the mountain of blankets for the next two days.

Seeing your home at the end of the street brought you as much joy as a child going into a sweet shop. Parking your car and walking to the front door, your eyes were hardly open now, moving with muscle memory as to where the front steps were and fumbling with your keys to find the lock. The door opens, you stumble in, close the door behind you, and release the pent-up sigh you could feel at the very base of your core.

Before you could even step forward, a solid mass collided with you, forcing you back against the front door, an ice-cold collar around your neck as someone whispered into your ear, “Let me feel it”.

“Eddie, let me shower first”, your voice was high pitched and whiney as you slightly leaned into the body now crowding around you.

The hand around your neck tightened, but not enough to hurt; he adjusted his grip so that his thumb rested on the scar on the side of your neck and the tip of his fingers rested on your carotid artery. The lips against the shell of your ear smiled softly, “Just for a couple of minutes, please”.

As he politely asked, the tension running through your body melted into the floor. “Give me some room then, you giant bat”. The nickname earned you a dusky chuckle as he eased his solid body a step back, but his hand remained around your throat. Trying not to sigh, you gripped the bottom of your shirt, lifting it over your head until your upper body only had your bra remaining. Eddie removed his hand for a second to allow the shirt to be discarded, and then, he dropped to his knees, pressing his ear over your heart.

It was your turn to laugh as your arms wrapped around his head, holding him close as his arms settled around your waist to keep you as close as possible. Your fingers ran through his silky black hair, which, despite its softness, still managed to frizz and seem untamable as it tickled your nostrils.

Eddie hummed in contentment as he leaned against your chest, listening to your heartbeat like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Dude, couldn’t you have just let her get through the door first?” came the exacerbated tone of your other boyfriend. Looking up from the top of Eddie’s head, you found the silhouette of Steve at the end of the corridor, and only now, it dawned on you that you’d not even turned on the hallway light yet. The thought of the brightness of the light had you keeping it off, however, as Steve began to move forward, being purposefully slow on his silent feet not to startle you.

Eddie ignored his boyfriend's chastising voice as he only held you tighter, his fingers now stroking up and down the centre of your spine, helping to soothe any tension that remained from your day at work.

“At least he didn’t come out to the car like last time; he nearly gave me a heart attack”. Eddie smiled against your skin as you recounted the memory from last week.

Steve hummed in agreement, now standing in front of you, his feet spread on the side of where Eddie was kneeling. Raising his arm, he stroked the two areas of your neck that Eddie had when you came through the door, your scar and your artery, and then he rested his hand next to your head against the door beside you. It was an action they both had to do any time you had returned from anywhere, even if it was just the bathroom. To check that their mark was still there on your throat from when they’d both bitten you for the first time and feeling the pulse still thumping in your artery.

Once they were satisfied with this, they could continue, and most days, that was feeling for a pulse elsewhere, which was precisely what Eddie was doing against your chest. Even though they could hear it from across the room with their increased hearing, they enjoyed it a lot more when their ice-cold skin pressed directly over your heart.

You’d theorised many reasons as to why they were so obsessed with your heartbeat. For one, they had both changed and morphed into blood-sucking vampires after their recent time in the Upside Down and being attacked by the Demobats, so thirst and hunger were always priorities and hearing the organ that was the sole focus of their meal, they were obsessed. Then, there were the other reasons why they both adored listening to your heart.

Eddie once admitted that he liked listening to it because he didn’t have one anymore, so when he pressed his face against your chest like he was doing now, he could pretend that it was his own and that all the traumatic experiences over the last year hadn’t occurred. Lastly, they both admitted they thoroughly enjoyed listening to your hheartbeatbecause it was the first thing they would notice would change when you were feeling anything. Whether it was a specific emotion such as anger or joy, your heart rate would increase, or their favourite game of listening to your arousal through your heartbeat.

You didn’t mind any of them for many reasons, especially as it meant that it caused them happiness and, after everything, that's all you wanted from them.

“How was work?” Steve asked casually as he kissed your temple and leaned over Eddie, the two crowding around you against the door. You looked up at Steve, noticing how dark his eyes were even in the shadows.

Lifting your hand, you cupped his cheek, verbally confirming your suspicions, “You’ve eaten! What did you have?”

If their eyes were bright, this was the first sign of their hunger, followed swiftly by them latching to your neck like a parasite, and for once, you were too tired to be fed from today. “A deer, Eddie was kind enough to share today”. The man hummed from his position on your chest but, this time, kissed over your heart before nuzzling back into it, which caused you to shiver at the stark coldness of his skin. “You didn’t answer my question. How was work?” Steve reminded you, tilting your chin up from where you had glanced down at the top of Eddie’s head.

You groaned, allowing your head to fall back against the door, not needing to answer him verbally to show just how lousy work was. “That bad, huh?” Steve confirmed. Nodding your head, your eyes closed momentarily, just needing to feel them both.

Ice cold lips caressed your face, slow, delicate kisses, moving from your ear to the tip of your nose, making you smile and move the hand on  Steve’s cheek into his hair, which was just as soft as Eddie’s but at least a bit more tamable.

“Whatever you’re doing, she likes it”, Eddie declares from your chest as he listens to the beating of your heart increase.

“Oh, I know she does”, Steve confidently replies before pecking your lips and causing a moan at the back of your throat. Your cheeks warmed at the conversation they were both having, finding that their being able to read your body so quickly was embarrassing, especially as you couldn’t do the same for them.

“You guys are the worst”, you concluded as your lips moved against Steve’s chin. The man grinned before his hand delved into your hair, gripping it and tilting your face entirely away from his so that your neck was bared for him.

You waited with anticipation as he ever so gently kissed over your scar, which caused your thighs to clench together as arousal bloomed in your core. Eddie chuckled, “She really likes that”.

“You’re both such teases”, you say breathlessly, holding onto them tightly.

“I don’t know what you mean; I want to hear about your day at work, " Eddie says matter-of-factly, turning his head to kiss your bra directly over your nipple. Your back arches with an attempt to feel more of him, but he backs away, pushing Steve back with him until you’re left against the door with no one supporting you and the exhaustion hits you like a tonne of bricks.

You whine pathetically, rubbing your hands over your face, “I’m so fucking tired”, you say, almost wanting to cry. Eddie gives in and is back against you, but this time, he’s lifting you, one arm supporting your back and the other under your knees, giving you the space to wrap both arms around his neck and nuzzle into his jaw. Carrying you upstairs, you were more than grateful when he placed you onto the bed, removed your shoes and socks, and then unbuttoned your jeans.

It was only as he began to kiss from your ankle and up your calf that you tried to wiggle away from him, but as you sat up, Steve sat behind you so your back was flush against his chest. “Eddie, I meant what I said; I need a shower”, you explain whilst pushing on his shoulders, but he didn’t move an inch, and no amount of force would move him from his desired path. 

As he reached the inside of your knee, he explained, “Yeah, well, you’ve had a long day at work, and I want to make you feel good, and you know you taste so fucking good no matter what”. You lingered on that word, taste. It could mean many different things to him and Steve; you weren’t sure what you needed more. You were too tired to be fed on, but there were various forms of feeding; there was the kind where it was heated and dangerous from both being hungry with bright eyes. Then there was the type you asked for every day: just a little bite to the scar on your neck, a flick of a tongue against the well of blood from the wound, would send hot sparks between your legs. You weren’t sure what it was; Eddie hypothesised that there was probably some sort of horny venom in their fangs that was only produced when they were aroused, but whatever it was had you feeling more turned on than anything before.

“What did you just think about then? Your hearts racing”, Steve monitors from behind, his eyes peaking over your shoulder to stare at the area of your chest where your heart lives.

“I thought you were too tired”, Eddie mutters as he notices your body relaxing into his touch, legs spreading of their own accord as he begins his mouth journey on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. 

“You’re both insufferable”, you concluded whilst leaning further into Steve, your head resting on his shoulder as his arms circled your waist, both legs on either side of your body as he moved more comfortably behind you, and you were now between him.

“I don’t know what you could mean, Baby; we’re just trying to look after you”. As Steve talks, his fingers ghost up the sides of your ribs, causing a deep shiver to run through your entire body, pebbling your nipples, which were still contained by your bra. Eddie grinned up at Steve as they knew how your body was reacting: breaths becoming more erratic, blood warming your skin, which contrasted with their ice-cold vampire skin and the wetness now gathering in your underwear.

Even in the darkness, you could see the pure joy on his face as he moved closer to your cunt. Obsenly, he pressed his nose into your underwear-covered mound and breathed in deeply, which he liked to do when he wanted the scent to stay in his nose, considering he didn’t need to breathe. Your cheeks were burning at Eddie, a little self-conscious that he’d done this before you could shower, but he always said that he preferred the natural scent of you compared to whatever floral body wash you planned to use.

Eddie groans deeply, his fingers flexing on your thighs as he pushes them back as far as possible, giving him a better angle for your pussy. “Eddie, please don’t destroy-” your words are interrupted by the very noticeable noise of material ripping as his fangs catch the edge of your underwear, tearing them.

“Oops, sorry”, he sounded anything but sorry as he now looked at your cunt, something he could see perfectly with his not human eyesight. Pressing one arm on your abdomen, the other rested over your heart for extra clarity as his tongue licked up the length of your pussy.

You gasped as your head rolled back further against Steve, who in turn was reaching up to hold your throat, dipping his face to follow the journey of his fingers. Each of your hands found a boyfriend’s head, holding Eddie between your legs and nuzzling Steve’s face further against your neck. Your eyes are closed to concentrate on all the sensations going through your body.

They were both rock solid and cold, like two moving statues; even Eddie’s tongue was cold, and only their fangs held any warmth, but this was because of whatever venom dripped from within.

This, right here, is what you needed more than the food, shower and bed. Having the two men who you loved more than anything, despite the difficulties that came with having two monsters in the house, they always knew just what you needed, and right now, you needed to forget about everything from work and relax.

With his tongue, Eddie applied more pressure, parting your folds so he could lather and drink the juices beginning to seep out of your hole. He teased your entrance, circling it before stretching it with the thickness of his tongue, delving it deeper until you were rocking your hips against his face, pushing his nose over your sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. Eddie stayed still, allowing you to fuck yourself on his tongue, getting yourself off as he concentrated on the feeling of your heartbeat from the tip of his tongue inside your cunt, comparing it to the pounding against his hand on your chest.

It beat harder with each passing moment as you exerted yourself with the hip movements and found your arousal getting deeper. Eddie groans roughly, his hips thrusting lazily into the bed to try and find some friction against his raging boner trapped in his jeans. Steve was enjoying it just as much, especially as his cock was rubbing against your back as he, too, counted each beat of your heart.

“Eddie, please don’t stop”, you moaned whilst holding onto his head to the point that it would have been painful to anyone else but him. Eddie smirked but stayed entirely still. He loved seeing this side of you, he’d hardly even touched you, and you were going completely insane on his tongue, fucking yourself as he stayed utterly still like he was your own personal sex toy.

Steve then added to this by licking over the scar on your neck, and it sent a burning jolt of pleasure through your core, causing your cunt to tighten and squeeze Eddie’s tongue as you came with rocking shakes.

“That’s a good girl, just like that, Baby. Keep riding Eddie’s tongue through it; well done,” Steve praised as he remained by your ear, watching and feeling your body tremble through the orgasm. 

After a few seconds, you collapsed further into Steve, trying to catch your breath with desperate sucks of air.

“I want you”, came your desperate plead, still holding a grip in both of their hairs.

“Who are you talking to, Sweetheart?” Eddie asked, kissing the inside of your thighs as you tried to calm yourself, feeling the beating against his palm slowly and reducing in intensity.

“Both of you, I want both of you inside of me right now”, you demanded without thinking of the consequences.

“Honey, we need to make sure you’re prepped, okay? Let’s just take this slowly.” Steve began to talk you through the options, but you could also feel him smirking as he spoke, knowing there was a much easier and quicker way for you to get what you wanted.

Turning your head to look at Steve, you could see with a bit more clarity as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Just bite me. I don’t want to wait; I want to feel you both now”.

“Are you sure? You said last time that we should probably give yourself a break from-”

“Steve, if you don’t fuck me right now,  I’m going to ban you from this house, and Eddie can have all the fun”. Even though your tone was serious, Steve knew you would never do this. Your boyfriends absolutely loved it when you became so aroused that all coherent thoughts disappeared.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Steve agreed, looking down at Eddie, who was beginning to rise onto his knees and undo the belt of his jeans. You and Steve watched as your boyfriend pushed the offending material with his underwear down his hips and off his long, tattooed legs. Just as his shirt was being pulled over his head, did you rush forward, arms around his neck and mouth on his.

The kiss had to be careful; even though you wanted to be heated and passionate, he had to keep his wits about him because of his sharp fangs. Carefully, he rolled the two of you over, so now Eddie was lying on the bed with you straddling his thighs, his impressive cock twitching against his abdomen. Your lips were still pressed against his as your fingers explored his chest, feeling the fine hair that layered over the top of his chest, covering the few tattoos that he had there.

His hands were now on your waist, feeling your flesh and pulling your hips closer until your cunt was flush against the length of his cock. Your hips automatically bucked at the sensation of his cold shaft. It had taken some adjustment to fuck something so cold, but now, you craved it more than anything else, the coolness making you feel more alive than anything else.

You didn’t want to wait, couldn’t waste another second without feeling his cock inside of you, so reaching down, you aligned the tip with your hole and carefully lowered yourself. Your walls fluttered around his length at both the stretch and the temperature. Eddie groaned, his fingers flexing on your hips, like he wanted to squeeze harder but knew that if he did, his increased strength would accidentally hurt you, so he tried to refrain, even though all he wanted to do was hold you as close as possible and fuck you until sunrise.

Once his cock was pushed as deep as it could go, did you finally lie your body flat against his chest, feeling no heartbeat at all, which had been incredibly unnerving at first, but now you were used to it. Looking over your shoulder, you tried to perk your arse up to Steve, who was now standing beside the bed, completely nude and having moved with unnatural quiet.

“Room for one more”, you say whilst subtly shaking your hips with Eddie’s cock still inside you.

Steve smirked, his eyes so dark they appeared black in the darkness, giving him a haunting look. Still, as his fist wrapped around his cock, pumping it a few times, this only caused your arousal to increase, which in turn, caused your heart to beat harder and Eddie to moan so dramatically he might as well have just cum.

“Hey, big boy, if you keep teasing her like this, she’s going to cum before the fun even begins”, Eddie demanded, looking at Steve was exacerbation.

Steve looked between his two lovers before finally crawling onto the bed and settling behind you. He cupped your arse cheek with a single hand, spreading it slightly to give him a better view of his intended goal. “Are you sure you don’t want me to prep you?” Steve asked for confirmation but already knew your answer.

Titling your head, you exposed the scared side of your neck, “Please just take me, I don’t want to wait”.

“Come here then, Baby”. He helps you to sit back up so that your back is flush against his chest and his mouth is next to the column of your throat. His hand appeared before your face as he demanded, “Spit”.

Lewdly, you spat onto his fingertips, which he then used to lube the tip of his cock before moving it to your puckered asshole. He pressed it enough that it began to stretch the slightest bit but then didn’t move any further as his mouth latched to your neck.

Your entire body was buzzing with anticipation, knowing what feeling was coming next, wanting it so bad that you could have cried.

As Eddie rested his hand over your heart, Steve cradled the other side of your face and bit his fangs into your neck as he fucked his cock into you at an agonisingly slow pace. As his sharp fangs pierced your skin, the juice within them entered your bloodstream, and it was one of the most euphoric feelings you could ever experience. It was almost as if every single nerve on your body was being caressed with arousal, burning with passion, and because of this, every area that hurt or was injured was cured of any wound.

It was probably unhealthy and bad practice, but it meant that when Steve fucked his cock into your asshole without prep, the stinging, tears and pain that would usually come without any sort of preparation would disappear and be replaced but unimaginable pleasure.

The three of you groaned in different tones, Eddie’s being the lowest and yours the highest, as you’re so beautifully stretched, tears lined your eyes. It was similar to having a mini orgasm with how much your walls squeezed around both shafts now situated inside you.

Steve’s mouth was still attached to your mouth as he slowly rotated his hips and took a quick suck of blood to coat his tongue. Aroused, your blood was like sweet nectar for him, like he could taste how you were feeling, which made him feel completely unstoppable, his cock so hard it was like a steel pole inside your ass.

Eddie, in turn, couldn’t believe the sight before him; no matter how many times he did this, he felt so privileged to be able to watch you sandwiched between them, taking both of their cocks at the same time, which was never something you could accomplish before their change to becoming vampires.

Only as Steve pulled away from your neck did Eddie begin to hold your hips and fuck up into you, causing your body to nudge forward and your hands to press against his chest so that you didn’t topple forward.

Where Steve had bitten didn’t bleed due to whatever had been injected into your bloodstream. Still, his mouth now was a dark red colour, including his lips as he kissed you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you deeply and stroke his now warm tongue against yours, but that would mean he’d have to bite you again and too much fun would spoil a good time.

You could smell the blood on his lips, your blood. Not that you cared as your hips began to move up and down, trying to fuck yourself on their lengths, but they soon were holding you still and taking over.

They both moved together, thrusting their hips so both of your holes were filled and empty simultaneously. It took no time for you to orgasm again, your thighs clenching just as hard as your cunt. Your eyes were closed as you savoured every euphoric pulse through your body until it passed, where you promptly collapsed against Eddie's chest.

“Do you want us to stop, Sweetheart?” Eddie asked, worried they would hurt you if they continued, but you tilted your face to look up at him.

Shaking your head, you explained, “Keep going. I don’t want you to stop unless I pass out or tell you to stop”.

Eddie’s eyes widen for a fraction of a section before he kisses your forehead. “Your wish is our command, dear lady”, he joked before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and fucking his hips up once more, causing your body to shiver and a gasp to leave your lips.

The one thing about vampires that they don’t tell you is that they can’t cum. They can feel aroused and feel just as good as any human would, but they would never be able to orgasm or fill you with their seed because their technically dead bodies couldn’t produce any sperm anymore. On the one hand, Eddie missed that part of it so bad, watching your cunt filled with his cum, seeing it drip out, but the rest of it he didn’t mind because it meant that he could fuck for hours and hours without stopping, still feeling just as good, just without the messy clean up at the end.

So on the rare occasion where you were feeling pent up and frustrated like you were today, you would beg them to keep fcking you, sandwiched between them both and free to fuck you for as long as possible. There had been one occasion where you’d cum so many times, your holes gaping and drenched from your juices, that you had simply passed out, something they only realised when your heartbeat began to slow to a gentle melody.

So now, they were slightly more cautious but still didn’t necessarily hold back, and they both held you down and fucked your cunt and ass at the same time. You continued to lie on Eddie’s chest, clinging to his shoulders with your mouth wide open and constantly moaning with every thrust and stroke of their cock.

Each orgasm was just as breathtaking as the next, your thighs becoming soaked with your pussy juices and sweat, which only continued to lube them both on. You’d lost count of the number of orgasms they’d fucked out of you, and it was only as you were becoming to be a little sore and swollen did you finally shake your head, too tired to even speak.

Their thrusts stopped instantly, hands rubbing over your naked spine as they gently eased their cocks out of you. You groaned at the loss but relief from having a moment to relax. You felt like you were high with how many orgasms you’d had like you were floating on a cloud far away.

“You ok, Baby? You still with us?” Steve asked whilst stroking the side of your face carefully. You ignored his question and nuzzled into Eddie's chest, which was answer enough that you felt pretty subby after the fucking and consequently tipped into subspace.

“Alright, my sweet girl, I will carry you into the bathroom. I will give you that bath you wanted; how does that sound?” Eddie ever so gently explained, causing his chest to vibrate with his words, so you tried to bury your face deeper into it. Knowing he wouldn't get a coherent answer from you, Eddie scooped you up into his arms. He padded towards the bathroom, being careful to finally turn on the light, which you quickly flinched arm before he set you down into the bathtub before climbing in behind you.

While still holding you in his arms, he turned the bath water on, deciding it was probably easier to have you in here than in the shower, especially as Steve entered the bathroom with a glass of water and some snacks.

“Baby, I need you to drink this for me.” he gently coaxed your face to turn so that he could get you to drink the water before handing you each chip from the packet into your mouth until he was happy that you’d had some food. “What do you want for dinner? I can make you pasta or something with potatoes. What do you fancy?”

“Anything”, you answer, finally feeling stable enough to talk, blinking gently to try and look up at them both. Steve welcomed you with a soft smile as he used a sponge to wash your back.

“I’ll go and find something to make whilst you stay here with Eddie”. Nodding your head in answer, you watched him stand and exit the bathroom.

Eddie held you close, kissing your temple and snuggling you further into the water to try and keep you warm, as he knew his contrasting body temperature sometimes kept you at a frozen body temp. 

“Your heart is beating so loud. Are you ok?” Eddie asks against your head.

Smiling, you answered honestly, “Just happy to be with the two of you”.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie x reader #steddie smut #steddie one shot #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #mine* #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #vampire steddie #vampire steve harrington #vampire eddie munson

[moonstruckme]

Hey bestie! I hope your day is going great! If you're open to it could I get some comfort from Steddie? I hate storms, always have and I unfortunately live in the Midwest. We are under tornado watch right now and could use something else to focus on. I wanna live vicariously through my beautiful Indiana boyfriends 😩. If you're too busy I totally understand. Thank you!!!

~😈

Hope your day is going even better ml!

cw: reader get anxious during storms

Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 717 words

You flinch when a piece of hail hits the window, and Steve tucks you closer against his side. 

Eddie shakes his head. He jiggles his keys as he stands from the couch. “I’ve gotta go get the van.” 

“No, no way,” Steve says, not for the first time tonight. “We’re all staying here.” 

“The closest tornado’s way off.” Eddie waves a hand, getting his boots from by the stairs and pulling them on. “I’m just gonna bring her here to take cover in your fancy garage so she doesn’t get fucked by the hail all night.” 

“So what, you think you’re gonna walk home and drive back?” Steve is incredulous. “Tornadoes can form anywhere, dipshit. On the road’s the worst place to be.” 

You tense as the winds pick up outside, and he tightens his grip on you as if he can contain your panic. You’re all holed up in Steve’s basement, the constant drone of the weather channel covering up the whine of tornado sirens outside. It’s probably overkill to have gotten out of bed to come down here this early—because Eddie’s right, the tornadoes are nowhere near you yet, you’ve only got the storm that the weatherman on channel 4 says comes before them—but there was no way you were going back to sleep after the sirens started anyway. Steve knows you feel safer down here, where the only windows are small and nearly at the ceiling, restricting your view of the outside to rain-pelted grass and occasional flashes of lighting. You get a bit freaked about this stuff. 

“Don’t go,” you say to Eddie, pleading. 

Eddie hesitates by the stairs, and Steve looks right at him as he says firmly, “He’s not.” 

The other boy heaves a great, dramatic sigh, kicking his boots off and tromping over to flop back down beside you. You’ve got your legs curled up underneath you, and Eddie lays his head on your thigh, looking up at you with his eyes extra big. 

“You’ll help me take care of the dents tomorrow, won’t you, hot stuff?” 

“Mhm.” You nod readily. Steve thinks you’d agree to anything right now if it’d keep him from going outside. 

He watches Eddie realize this, the other boy’s expression sobering slightly before he doubles down on the teasing. His eyes flick up to Steve. 

“Or I guess you could always pay to get any damage fixed, huh?” 

Steve scoffs, using his free hand to brush a curl away from Eddie’s eye. “Yeah, right.” 

“What? Is my old gal not in the budget?” 

“Your gal’s sitting right here.” 

Eddie’s gaze moves back to you, and Steve thinks he sees you going a bit shy as Eddie makes a show of taking you in. Good. You could use a distraction. 

“Nah,” he says after a minute, quiet in an intentional way that makes Steve grin and you squirm. “That there’s my girl. Don’t insult her like that, Harrington, I’m talking about my old gal.” 

You turn to hide your smile in Steve’s shoulder, and he and Eddie share a look. It’s knowing, contented, grateful on one end and shit-eating on the other, and because you can always tell when they’re conspiring without you you mumble a not-unhappy, “I’m too tired for flirting,” into Steve’s skin. 

“Liar,” Steve accuses fondly. You’re basically flirting with him right now, the way you’ve got your arm snaked around his middle, anxious fingers fiddling with the hem of his pajama bottoms. “Why don’t we just spend the night down here?”

“Ooh.” Eddie turns onto his side, getting comfier on your thigh. “I like it. Whaddya think, baby? We can put on a movie, and that way you can stay here and keep feeling Harrington up.” 

You sigh. “That’s not what’s happening.” 

“Sure.” Steve drops a kiss on your head, and when you try to let go of him he holds you close.

Eddie gives your thigh a conciliatory pat. “We’ve all been there.” 

“If we watch a movie,” you say, and Eddie grins at your obvious attempt to change the subject, “can it please be something not scary?” 

“Sure, honey.” Steve rubs your arm, shooting Eddie an apologetic look when the other boy pouts. “Your pick.” 

When the next strike of lightning flashes in the window, you don’t seem to notice. 

#steddie #steddie x reader #steddie x fem!reader #steddie x y/n #steddie x you #steddie x self insert #poly!steddie #poly!steddie x reader #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie hurt/comfort #steddie imagine #steddie scenario #steddie drabble #steddie blurb #steddie oneshot #steddie one shot #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fandom

[theemporium]

Steddie dealing with wild and clingy drunk reader ?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Honey, please—”

“I’m fine, Steve, I can stand on my own.”

“I really don’t think you can.”

“Yeah, look!”

“Baby—” 

Steve’s hands quickly reached out to catch you the second you pulled away from him, your feet stumbling over the cobblestone driveway in a pair of heels that made his head spin. His arm wound around your middle before you could stumble forward, his own feet staggering as he caught himself from falling along down with you. 

“Nice save,” Eddie snorted as he leaned his head out the open window, watching Steve try and wrangle you into the car after insisting he could do it alone. 

“Shut up, Munson,” the other boy grumbled as he reached for the passenger side door of the van, ready to lift you up before he climbed in behind you.

It was just supposed to be a small get together. Robin had insisted that you needed a night to just step away from all the drama and chaos that came with living in Hawkins, and you agreed. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had an excuse to dress up with no real reason, and a part of you missed it after spending the better part of your life in the last few months covered in dirt and chasing after monsters that shouldn’t even exist. 

The boys watched you get ready with smiles on their faces, lounging on the bed as you scrambled through your wardrobe to find something to wear. They did the same speech they did every single time you went out somewhere late at night without them: to call them if you felt weird or unsafe, to call them when you needed to be picked up, to make sure to always have something on you that could be used as a weapon.

The true joys of living in Hawkins, Indiana. 

You had left the apartment after kissing them both goodbye and promising that you’d have a fun night out for all three of you.

It was just after midnight when Robin had called them to come pick you up from her house. 

But they had dealt with you drunk so many times that it didn’t seem like an issue at first as they packed into Eddie’s van and headed out. However, after arriving at Robin’s house, they realised she had massively downplayed how drunk you were.

“She’s fucked.”

Steve shot the boy a look. “Wow, thanks for pointing that one out.”

“Grouchy,” Eddie murmured with a grin as he jumped out, rounding the van to open the passenger door. Steve had barely managed to slide out before you were launching yourself at Eddie, bursting into a fit of giggles as you wound yourself around him. “Ooft, hey, baby.”

You lifted your head with a lovesick smile on your face. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hmm, my pretty girl,” he cooed as he grinned back at you. “You gonna get down.”

You shook your head.

“Easier to get you up the stairs, I guess,” he murmured as he nodded towards Steve to open the door. 

You didn’t let go of the boy as all three of you made your way to your shared apartment. Your head was resting on his shoulder, nuzzling yourself into the crook of his neck as you listened to the soothing voices of your boyfriends. 

“C’mon, doll, we gotta get you to bed.”

“I’m comfy where I am,” you whined, almost purring when you felt Steve’s hands running up and down your back. 

“Promise we cuddle afterwards,” Steve bargained as he finally got you to latch off of Eddie. However, it lasted all of thirty seconds before you were wrapping your arms around Steve’s waist and pressing your cheek against his back. 

It was more of a hassle to get you changed into comfier clothes than either of them cared to admit, and similarly could be said about managing to get the makeup off your face. But both boys managed to wrangle you down, guiding you over to the bed when you were already half asleep on their shoulders. 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Both boys shared a look over your head. 

“Yeah, honey, anything,” Steve eventually answered, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked down at you.

You nuzzled your face further into your pillow, reaching both hands out until you could grab some part of each of them. “I have the prettiest boyfriends ever.”

The tightness in his chest eased as Steve let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

Eddie could barely bite back his grin as he leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Pretty boyfriends for a pretty girl.”

.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #steddie fic #steddie one shot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot

[starrystevie]

such a heavenly way to die | written by rogersharringtons on ao3

“I wish I could have had sex just once before I bit the dust.” The tension in the air is thick, palpable, living up to every cliche Steve’s heard before. He has half a mind to pull out his pocket knife to see if he can really cut through it. Steve doesn’t dare break the moment, though, letting Eddie breath a few times before continuing on.  “It’s hard enough dying a loser, but a virgin? Talk about lame.” Eddie laughs, and it’s not real, it’s something broken and fake in the way it climbs out of his throat. “What’s worse, I haven’t even kissed anyone. Jesus Christ, what a sad legacy to leave behind. Practically Shakespearian levels of tragic.”  Eddie has on that sad, self-deprecating smile that pulls at Steve’s heartstrings every time he sees it. It’s too much before the end of the world, it’s too much for Steve who knows this is his last chance to be brave in a way he hasn’t had to be before.  “Kiss me.” Steve can see how Eddie freezes, his chest the only thing that shows he’s still alive because of the way it’s puffing out with Eddie’s deep breaths. His sad little smile turns down and Steve decides he hates Eddie’s frown even more. “God, pity is even worse than embarrassment. Thanks, Steve”

their final fight against the upside down will happen in the morning, so eddie admits a secret that needs to be said before the end of the world. what kind of monster would steve be to not help him out?

17k+ words | one shot | explicit

tags: angst with a happy ending, virgin eddie munson, accidental power bottom steve harrington, first times, porn with plot

#steddie #steddie fic #my writing #steddie one shot #steve harrington #eddie munson #pwp #this took a thousand years and it's FINALLY done #this is like 10k over what i expected oops #stranger things #stranger things fic #virgin eddie munson #i think the accidental power bottom steve harrington tag is my new favorite tbh

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve pulls his punches except when it's most needed. He doesn't really care if he gets hurt, but if it's someone he cares about. . .well, all bets are off. So, when Andy walked into the hospital, ready to finish Eddie off for what happened to Jason, even though it was Jason who put himself in that situation. Steve saw red. This guy was going to kill Eddie. This was the same guy who attacked Erica. Fuck no.

Steve pulled Andy away from Eddie's bed, pulled his arm back, and slugged Andy in the face. Andy opened his mouth to speak, and Steve punched him again. And again. And again, until Steve was on top of him. He grabbed him by the collar, practically picked him off the floor, and slammed him into the wall.

"If you and your friends ever come near Eddie Munson or the members of Hellfire, I will end you right where you stand. I want you to pass on this message along with something else: My dad's a lawyer, and if I ask, he would do whatever it takes to bury you and your goddamn family," Steve growled at him. "So, back. The. Fuck. Off."

Steve kneed him in the stomach, causing him to groan and clutch his stomach. Andy scurried out of their, looking over his shoulder as he did so. Steve groaned and clutched his own side, remembering his own wounds.

"Jesus, Steve!" Eddie squawked. "Would your dad really do that?"

"Nah, that actually requires him to actually care about something other than himself," Steve replied as he sat back down.

"You know," Wayne said, speaking up. "If you married my boy -,"

"Well, that's illegal," Eddie snorted.

"IF YOU MARRIED MY BOY, Steve, then you would have at least one parent that cares about you," Wayne said. "Besides, Eds, from what I gathered, it sounds like you and those kids have already done some pretty illegal things. What's one more?"

"I have to think about this for a minute," Steve said, pretending to think about it for a minute with a grin on his face.

"So, Steve, what do you say? You want to marry my boy?" Wayne asked, slapping his thigh.

"Wayne! You can't just propose to guys for me!" Eddie exclaimed, a panic look on his face. "Wayne!"

"Yes, I think I will marry your boy," Steve replied.

"Great, I'm going to go start planning it then. Oh, you also have Claudia. I'm gonna see if she wants to help me," Wayne said, clapping Steve’s shoulder on the way out while Eddie gaped at the two.

"Do I get a say in any of this?!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Do you not want to marry me?" Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't say that," he mumbled, playing with his blanket.

Dustin came in at that moment, his usual grin on his face and his hat having returned to his head.

"What did I miss?" Dustin asked, his hands on his hips.

"Wayne and I agreed that I will be marrying Eddie," Steve said.

"WHAT?!"

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #steddie one shot #stranger things fanfiction #wayne munson #dustin henderson

[izzy2210]

Staring

One thing about Eddie that Steve couldn’t stop staring at, were his fingers. Those long, pale fingers, adorned with rings and chipped off nail polish, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of them. He watched as Eddie took the blunt from Jonathan, inhaled the smoke, and passed it back. He watches his fingers curl around the joint, and wished they’d curl around something else. He watched as he grabs a hair tie, putting it in between his teeth because his hands are busy, lean fingers raking through his curls. Steve could be actually drooling, because Robin nudges him. 

“Earth to Steve? Hey, what are you thinking about?” She hooks her pinkie finger into his, a reminder that he can say anything. Steve sighs, and tears his eyes off of Eddie. “Nothin’, Robs.” He stretches, raising his arms high above his head, closing his eyes, as if that will help.

One thing about Steve that Eddie couldn't stop staring at, was his lower belly. That smooth, tanned skin, adorned with scars and a little happy trail, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of it. He watched as Steve stretched, his already short sweater riding up until his tanned skin peeks out from underneath. Steve would tell you he gained weight, but Eddie only sees more to grab, more to taste.. Eddie could be actually drooling, because Jonathan nudges him. “You good, man? You were just staring off into the distance..”  He nudges him again. “Nothing, Jon.” He rakes his fingers through his hair again.

This dance goes back and forth for a while, too engrossed in staring at the other that they don’t notice the other one’s staring. Robin and Jonathan share a knowing look. Robin stands up. “I’m just gonna go to the toilet.” Jonathan’s eyebrows rise, “Oh uh yeah, me too.” He stands up as well, and in the blink of an eye, Steve and Eddie are alone. They’ve never been. 

Steve swallows audibly, and his Adam’s apple bobs, catching Eddie's attention. He twirls a curl around his finger, and Steve stares. Eddie looks at him, and scoots closer to him on the couch. “So- eh..” He begins, but Steve interrupts him. “You look pretty. For a boy, I mean.” He adds quickly. How smooth, Harrington.

“Oh, eh. Thank you. I think.” Eddie chuckles awkwardly, and Steve could slap himself. “What I’m trying to say is that.. Uhm..” He stumbles over his words, and the fact that Eddie is fiddling with his hair is not helping. Steve hides his face with his hand, stretching over the couch. “Sorry, man, I don’t.. I don’t know. Sorry.” He pinches his brow, but Eddie only has eyes for the tiny sliver of skin revealing itself when Steve lays down. His fingers twitch to reach out, to run his fingertips along the line V-shape his hip-dips make, to lick and taste his skin. 

“You-uh. You look pretty as well, Steve.” Steve’s eyes meet Eddie’s. “For a boy, you mean?” he asks, forgetting to breathe. Eddie shrugs. "Just.. Just pretty. I guess.” He turns the ring on his pinkie around and around, and Steve is fucking salivating. “Look- Eddie.. Fuck- I’m sorry for what I’m about to say but please, fuck, stop fiddling with your fingers,” Steve groans. Eddie smirks. “And what if I don’t?” He teases, the weed making him courageous,  and Steve sighs, shrugging and scratching an itch on his side. His sweater rides up again, and this can’t keep going on like this, Eddie decides. 

“Look, Steve, I’m- I’m very gay. You know that.” Steve’s eyes widen, and he nods. “And I may perhaps be very gay for you. Now if you would also please stop letting your shirt ride up like that, that would be great, because I’m about to fucking pin you down and have my way with you, and I think neither of us want that. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’m going upstairs and I’m gonna cry for a bit.” He stands up abruptly, but Steve grabs his wrist. 

“I’d want that. I think.” 

“You’d.. Huh?” Eddie looks at him, and then at his wrist. If his hands are warm, his stomach would be even warmer. “I’d like that. Not the crying part. I’ve been staring at you the entire night, Eds, you really didn’t notice? Fuck, those hands..” 

Eddie sits back down. “What about them?” He traces random patterns on Steve’s wrist. He stares. “You really want me to say it, huh?” He smiles slightly, and Eddie nods. “Want you to put them in my mouth, Eds, let me suck on them. Or wrap them around my neck. Or something else.” 

Eddie lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Well in that case, I’d love to run my fingers over your stomach, Stevie. I, for once, have been staring at that. It’s criminal.” “It’s pudgy-” “It’s fucking hot, alright? Fuck, just wanna..” Eddie keeps his promise, and pins him down on the couch, hovering above his face. He seems to sober up a little, realizes what he’s doing, flashes a look at Steve’s lips, and forms a different plan. “Maybe we should.. take this slow. Do this properly. I like you, Stevie. Wanna kiss you real bad, and then do some other stuff after. Mostly kiss you.” 

Steve looks up at him, all big doe eyes and soft lips. “Yeah, yes. Me too. Like you too. A lot,” and he presses a soft kiss against Eddie’s lips. “Don’t mind taking this slow, wouldn’t be very responsible to do it while we’re high, either way. Maybe you’ll regret it all tomorrow.” He presses another kiss. “Won’t-” Eddie says breathlessly, and kisses back. Buries his fingers in Steve’s hair, and groans against his lips. Tastes the weed on Steve’s tongue, and tries to remember it in case he never wants to see him again tomorrow. Not today though, not tonight. Tonight they kiss, high and hot and lovely, until the morning comes. 

---

AAAHHH I DID SOMETHING AGAIN? (wrote half if this while i was drunk and the other half while i was sleep-deprived so all the yearning is just me)

@steddieas-shegoes @inklessletter @flowercrowngods

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie smut #slight smut #actually #no mention of penises yippie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie one shot #steddie one-shot

[mimixmunson]

Scream

CW- tickling, use of pet names (princess)

"Oh my fucking god Harrington, make that noise again!" Eddie had just found out a very interesting quirk about his boyfriend, you'd think after a year of dating he couldn't have hidden something like this but here they were. Wrestling on the Harrington's living room floor, laughing alongside each other because Eddie had discovered Steve's weak spot. All he did was wiggle his fingers under his arms when his boyfriend was reaching for something from the top shelf that he was just a little to short to grasp. "Scream for me again princess, come on! I don't wanna have to tickle you worse. Or do I?" Eddie teased with a smirk. His boyfriend curling up into a ball to protect himself from Eddie's wandering hands, he wouldn't complain. Obviously not. Any physical affection from Eddie Munson, his long term crush made boyfriend was a god sent gift.

#stranger things #steddie #mine #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson au #bi steve harrington #steddie au #steve harrington au #tickle fic #steddie fic #steddie one shot #one shot #steddie tickle fic #steve x eddie #ler!eddie #lee!steve #fluff #steddie fluff #steddie playfight #tickle fluff #stranger things tickle fic #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve and eddie #steveddie

[ghosttotheparty]

a place where i belong

also on ao3 // 13k words cw: verbal abuse; gaslighting; family angst; smut/nsfw

He’s in the kitchen when he hears it. Standing by the sink and downing a painkiller, shoes on, jacket on, car keys in hand. He pauses when he hears it, hypervigilant as always, freezing without swallowing the gulp of water, the pill floating in his mouth for a moment as he realizes.

A car pulls into the driveway. 

He swallows, closing his eyes and sighing heavily, and he sets the glass in the sink. 

He’d forgotten they were coming back today. It’s been on the calendar, marked with a vague, innocuous red dot that he’d begun to look past, to look through, to ignore without meaning to. He’s been too focused on everything else, on his own messy handwriting reading Lucas basketball - 3pm and kids theater - noon and Max physical therapy - 1pm. His weekly hours are jotted down on a piece of paper that’s stuck to the wall next to the calendar, updated every Saturday evening. Robin’s handwriting is just as bad as his, but he’s gotten better at reading it, the same way she’s gotten better at reading his. 

Steve rests his back against the counter by the sink, taking a breath, steeling himself. He crosses his arms, clutching his keys in his hand so tightly the teeth bite into his palm. He looks at the ground. Follows the lines between the tiles with his eyes like he’s mapping out a maze. Or an escape.

He hears the front door open. Hears some shuffling, some muttering, the clunking of suitcases coming through the entryway. 

And then he hears, “Steven, your car is filthy, when was the last time you had it washed?”

 His eyes get stuck on a tile, at the corner of it. The tiles used to be a pristine, shining, sparkling white. When Steve was a little boy, they were always sparkling. Glistening. Always freshly mopped, scrubbed, waxed. They don’t look like that anymore. They’re dull now, still white but just barely grey. The one Steve is looking at has a crack in it. It’s a tiny crack, thin as a hair, branching off from the corner, but he sees it from where he’s standing. 

“A few weeks ago,” he says, even though he knows it’s been months. “I don’t know.” 

The house has aged with him, he thinks. His parents stopped making sure the floors were being taken care of when they started leaving. They stopped making sure the chimney was cleaned, the pool was cleaned, the walls were sturdy. Steve gave up on keeping everything in order when he started high school. When he started to question whether or not they were coming back at all instead of what day they’d show up. 

Steve stares at the tile. Traces the crack in it. 

“Steven, I paid good money for that car, I expect you to take care of it.”

He nods at the floor. 

Quiet. 

Good. 

He hates when they come home. It’s like the house gets a little colder, like the echoes of the kids’ laughter get sucked out the windows. Like the last burning embers in the fireplace have turned to ash. 

It doesn’t happen often, them coming home. But when it does…

“Goodness, this floor is filthy. We need to get these tiles replaced.” 

He blends into the walls. Turns to mist that they look right through. Fades back into the little boy he used to be, too small to look into his father’s eyes or to reach the liquor cabinet, quiet and well-behaved and good. 

They keep talking. He doesn’t hear his name. He keeps looking at the floor. He decides he likes the crack in that tile. He kind of wishes they were all like that. It took almost twenty years for that crack to appear, that tiny, thin crack. He wonders how many tiles there are in the whole room, wants to multiply that number by twenty. See if he’ll still be alive when they’re all like this one, damaged so subtly he has to look for it. He imagines it, the tiles grey and dusty with age, cracks spreading across them like a spiderweb across the floor. In his head, it’s beautiful. 

And then he remembers that they want to replace them now. Because they’re not as shiny as they used to be. 

Steve doesn’t feel very shiny. He doesn’t think he’s ever been shiny. 

They’re still talking. Steve exhales. 

His eyes find a scuff on his shoe. He blinks at it, trying to remember where it came from, and for an awful, awful second he thinks it’s from gym class, from basketball practice, from fucking around in alleyways, before he remembers. 

He thinks it’s from the Upside Down. From running, hiding, fighting. 

The keys bite into his palm, and he loosens his grip, inhaling sharply as his brain registers the pain. He looks at his hand, holding his fingers open to make sure he isn’t bleeding. He isn’t. His skin is red, indents from the teeth of the keys sharp in his skin, in the creases of his palms. 

Fuck. 

He looks at the clock across the room, and for a moment he wants to just leave silently, to walk right past them to the front door. But he doesn’t. 

“Uh,” he says, quietly enough that he isn’t really interrupting them. They both look at him, turning their heads a little but still glancing at him out of the sides of their eyes, and he finally looks at them. Sees them. They look older than he thought they did, lines around their eyes and mouths and on their foreheads. His father’s hair is mostly grey now, his mother's still dark red. It looks fake, just like the pearls around her neck. “I need to… go.”

“Go where?”

“To— To pick up some kids.” He stutters. He hates stuttering. “And take them home, I— I told their parents I’d get them home by six.”

Walter sneers. 

“Why are you driving children around?” he asks. But he isn’t really asking anything at all. He’s just… commenting. Like he always it. Your grades are shit. Your car is dirty. Why are you driving children around?

“I’m their babysitter,” Steve says. He used to hate that word. It felt so demeaning. He remembers his babysitters from when he was little, teenagers that only took the job for the money instead of for Steve, teenagers that would spend hours in the living room smoking or nursing beers and watching movies while Steve played by himself upstairs or in the corner. 

But he doesn’t mind it now. Being the babysitter. Driving the kids around. Making sure they’re okay, they’re safe and healthy and happy. Even though he tells them to shut up, he likes hearing their laughter and relentless bickering from the backseat. Even though he calls them little shits, he thinks he loves them. 

“Babysitter,” Walter repeats dryly. He’s making that face again. He’s always making that face at Steve. Like he smells, like he’s a stain on the carpet. Like he’s a dirty floor tile. Walter sighs, shaking his head like he’s disappointed. “We’re going to need to discuss your career plans, Steven, you can’t go on with your life babysitting.” 

Steve stares at him blankly. He won’t meet Steve’s eye. 

He’s wearing a suit. He’s always wearing a suit. Steve can’t remember the last time he saw him in anything else. 

And now, come to think of it, Steve can’t remember the last time he saw him. 

It’s been months that they’ve been away. Months since they’ve stepped through the front door into the boring entryway, through the boring hallway, into the boring kitchen. With no greeting, no Hi, Steve, how’ve you been? No We missed you, how are your friends? What happened with the earthquakes and the serial killer? Are you okay?

Nothing. 

A comment about the dirt on Steve’s car, and the dull floor tiles, and Steve’s future career. He wonders if they even know what color his eyes are. 

“Right,” he says finally, his hand clenching around the keys again. “Well, I’d love to have that conversation with you, but I really need to go, so…”

“We just got home,” Catherine says sharply, looking at him from where she’s sitting at the table, unbuckling her high heels. “You haven’t seen us in months, Steven, and this is how you greet us?” 

Steve looks at her. At her hair. It’s stiff with hairspray, piled up on top of her head in fake curls. Her makeup is creasing in her wrinkles, and her lipstick is faded around the center of her lips. Steve blinks. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here right now,” he says carefully. “And I already told the kids’ parents I’d have them home by six, it should only take a few minutes.” He pauses, looking at her but feeling Walter’s eyes on him. Like he’s analyzing him, looking for faults. He can’t see the scars under Steve’s shirt. “I can’t just leave them there,” he says, pausing, thinking about how worried the kids would be. How they’d blow up the walkies trying to contact him, calling Eddie and Robin and even Nancy to ask if they know where he is, if they’ve heard from him. But he knows Walter would just laugh. “I’m responsible for them,” he finishes. 

And he starts toward the door. 

“When did you turn into such a little adult?” Catherine says lightly behind him, teasing. Careless. 

He stops walking, fist tightening on the keys again. He’s facing the doorway, and the room is quiet except for the soft shuffling of her shoe on the ground as she undoes the buckle. And he feels like his whole body is aching and sore, because he was nine. 

The first time they left him home alone. It was just a few days while they went to Indianapolis, but he remembers how quiet the house was. How he suddenly missed the smell of cigarettes and weed, how he missed the indistinct chatter of the television, of his babysitters’ voices muffled through the walls while they talked to their friends on the phone. He sat on the stairs for a while after hearing their car pull out of the driveway. Like he was waiting. 

He realized after a few hours that without a babysitter, he could go outside. It was his first time outside without supervision. 

He just tried to catch the fireflies. 

Steve turns around and looks at them. They’re both looking back at him, eyebrows raised curiously at the way he stopped short, at the way he froze. 

“Probably when I turned into an actual adult,” he says, his voice quieter than he intends. 

Walter scoffs. 

Steve feels like he just plunged into Lovers’ Lake again. Ice cold all over, in the dark. Eyes straining to see what’s ahead of him. 

“You’re an adult when you finish high school, Steven. You’re a child.”

Steve blinks. 

His gaze shifts over to him, to that fucking expression, at the earnestness in his eyes. The fucking ignorance. And Steve, inexplicably, laughs.

It’s a short laugh, but it’s almost hysterical, and he really just doesn’t know how the fuck else to react, to respond. They’re looking right at him. And they can’t see the age in his eyes, in his height, his face. They don’t even know him. He’s a stranger in their house. 

They’re strangers too. 

“I’m an adult, Dad,” Steve says dryly after the laugh, still half-smiling, even as the expression on Walter’s face deepens. Condescending, and mean, and judging, and even with the grey hair and the wrinkles, he’s the same man that Steve used to look up at as a child. “I graduated high school,” Steve says before Walter can say anything. “Two years ago.” 

Walter blinks, making a face and looking at Catherine, who just raises an eyebrow at Steve. 

“You were in Italy,” Steve says, trying as hard as he can to remain light, nonchalant, to keep his voice soft and sweet and quiet and good. “I sent you an invitation to the ceremony.”

“Oh, Steven, you know we never check our main when we’re abroad,” Catherine says lightly. 

Steve looks at her. The faux kindness in her eyes. The smile gracing her red lips. Like it’s Steve's fault. Like he’s a child.

He hates her. 

“Right,” he says softly, nodding slowly, looking away. “Silly me.”

“So you think finishing high school makes you a grown-up?” Walter says, amused. Steve looks at him. 

“Isn’t that what you just said?”

“...Steven, you have no idea what it means to be an adult.”

Steve looks at him. At his face. The condescending shine in his eye, like he’s talking to a kid, like Steve isn’t his height. (Maybe taller. He’s too far away to tell right now.) 

Stranger. Stranger. Stranger. 

Steve nods. Puts his keys down. 

“I’ll be back in a second.”

The phone is in the living room, near the doorway, and he closes his eyes as he picks it up, taking a deep breath before he dials the number he memorized within a day of learning it. 

“Munsons.”

“Hey,” Steve says quietly. “Uh, would it be cool if you picked the kids up from the arcade for me?”

“The arcade…” Eddie repeats, his voice more distant like he’s leaning away from the phone. “Weren’t you getting them today? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve lies easily. But Eddie’s always able to know when he’s lying. Steve doesn’t know how he does it. Every time Steve lies that he’s fine, that No, my head doesn’t hurt, and I didn’t have a nightmare, I just wanted to get some water, and I feel fine. Eddie just… looks at him. 

“Steve.”

And Steve always breaks. Lets the brick wall between them crumble to dust. 

“Uh.” He pauses, glancing down the hall. He feels like they’re listening. “My parents came back a minute ago. We’re talking.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says. “Is everything okay? Do you need backup?” 

Steve smiles into the phone, closing his eyes as his stomach flutters. 

“No, just… It’ll be fine. We’re just talking.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment, and Steve can practically hear the gears in his head turning. 

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll get the little shits, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Steve says, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“‘Course, Stevie.” Steve’s stomach flutters again. “Good luck with your parents.”

“Thanks.”

They hang up. Steve presses his face to the wall for a moment, taking a slow breath before he exhales. 

He goes back to the kitchen. 

Leans against the counter by his keys. Crosses his arms and looks at the floor. Finds the cracked tile and stares at it. 

It feels farther away now. Like he’s gotten taller. 

“You don’t think I know what it means to be an adult,” he says. 

“No, Steven,” Walter says lightly. Jovially. Condescendingly. “I think you’ve lived a very sheltered life. You haven’t seen the world, or experienced anything that could push you into adulthood. But that’s okay,” he adds like it’s reassuring. “You’re fortunate, you know.”

Steve's jaw twitches. He grinds his teeth. Stares at the tile, then the scuff on his shoe. 

“Do you wanna know what I think?” Steve asks quietly. 

Walter scoffs again. 

The sound grates at the inside of Steve’s skull, and his stomach twists. His lungs feel constricted, like they’re too tight. 

“What do you think?” Walter asks. His voice is gentle, so gentle it sounds like he’s talking to a five-year-old, humoring him, playing along. Steve lifts his head and levels a gaze on him. 

And across the kitchen, in the soft late afternoon sunlight, Steve looks at his wrinkles and his grey hair and his goddamn suit, and he’s just a man. And Steve wonders how the fuck he used to look up to this man, how the fuck he used to think he was anything more than this.

“I think you don’t know shit about me,” Steve says softly. 

Walter’s eyes widen, and he tilts his head in shock as Catherine lets out an Excuse me!

Steve nods, staring, and staring, and staring, and he can’t look away. 

“I think you don’t know shit about me,” he says again. “I think I have been… through hell. And you weren’t here.”

“Steven—”

“You weren’t here,” Steve snaps, his voice a little louder. He uncrosses his arms and stands up straight, and he thinks he is taller than his father. His stomach twists again. “You wanna know when I became a little adult, Mom?” 

She stares at him, eyes wide. 

“I became a little adult when you left me home alone to fend for myself,” he says forcefully. “When I was a child. And I should have been off playing with my friends, and memorizing multiplication tables, and getting my knees scraped on the pavement.” His heart is pounding now, and he can barely hear himself over it. “I wasn’t doing any of that. I was learning how to fucking cook, because there was no one else to do that for me. I was learning how to reset the heat in the house, and I was growing up when I shouldn’t have been.” 

“So you’ve been through hell because you had to learn how to use the stove,” Walter says dryly. Steve looks at him. 

“God, you really have no idea who I am, Dad.”

“I’m your father,” Walter says, an amused smile teasing his lips. 

“Is that what you call yourself?” Steve asks. “Is that what you tell people? That you’re a father? Because, I…” He scoffs and shakes his head, and maybe he’s more like his father than he’d hoped he’d be, but he doesn’t care right now. “I gotta tell you, man, that’s gonna be really misleading when people hear that.”

“You don’t think I’m your father,” Walter says. He’s starting to get angry, and a part of Steve feels vindicated. Good.

“No,” Steve breathes. 

“How on Earth is he not?” Catherine interrupts, and Steve had almost forgotten that she’s even here, looking up at them from the chair she’s sitting in. “You have his DNA.”

“Right,” Steve says. “So we’re related. Biologically.” He looks back at Walter, and they’re closer than he thought they were, but he can't tell how close they really are. Concussions and trauma do wonders to one’s depth perception. “You didn’t raise me.”

“I didn’t raise you?” Walter says, his cheeks flushing red. Something in Steve cheers. 

“No,” Steve says calmly. “You left me alone with teenagers that didn’t know shit about how to take care of children, and you left me home alone. By myself. In the middle of the fucking woods.”

“You weren’t that young, Steve—”

“I was nine.” He looks at Catherine, silencing her. “I remember.” He looks back at Walter. Their eyes meet. They have the same eye color. Steve hates it. “Fathers know their children,” he says. “You don’t know me.”

“Of course I know you,” Walter snaps. “You’re my son, Steven, how could I not—”

“How old am I?”

The room falls quiet. 

Steve stares back as Walter looks at him. He can hear his own heartbeat, his own breaths. The water tapping in the sink. A bird chirping outside. 

And he nods. 

“You don’t know me,” he says quietly. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“You’re still our son,” Catherine says haughtily.

“...When’s my birthday?” he asks. When they’re silent, he says, “What am I allergic to? What’s my favorite color? Who’s my best friend?”

“The Hagan kid,” Walter says, like it’s an accomplishment, answering one question incorrectly. 

“I haven’t talked to Tommy Hagan in three years,” Steve says. “And you didn’t know that.”

Walter huffs and rolls his eyes. 

“How was I supposed to know that?” he mutters. “Look, Steven, this…” He gestures aimlessly at Steve, making a face. “Your favorite color, your friend’s name, they don’t matter.” He laughs lightly, dismissively. “You wanna be treated like an adult, but these are the things you care about, Steven, they’re irrelevant.”

“It doesn’t matter that they’re irrelevant, Dad,” Steve snaps, his voice louder. “It matters that you don’t care. I’m your kid, you should care about the things I like, and— and about my friends, and about my fucking birthday.”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me,” Walter says, his eyes darkening with anger, and Steve aches. 

When he was six, he was watching Looney Tunes on the television on a Saturday morning. He laughed a little too loud, and he was sent to his room for the rest of the day. Because his father needed quiet to focus on his work. Walter’s always hated hearing Steve speak, so Steve has kept quiet. Seen and not heard. Fading in the background, hiding in plain sight. But Steve is fucking sick of being looked through. Ignored. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head, almost on the verge of delirious laughter. “No, I’m gonna raise my voice at you. Because I’m pissed, and because you never had a problem raising your voice at me.”

“You were a child—” 

“So that made it fine? To yell at me? To tell me to keep my fucking mouth shut? That’s all fine to tell a child?” He stares at Walter. “You wanna talk about the shit that actually matters, fine. Let’s talk about the shit that actually matters.”

He’s shaking now, breathing hard and trembling with twenty years of anger that's boiling and spilling over his edges. 

“You guys know about Hawkins,” he says, crossing his arms and looking at the floor, avoiding their gazes as he takes a breath. 

“About Hawkins,” Walter repeats. 

“Hawkins, yeah,” Steve says. “The shitshow that is my hometown, you know all the shit that’s happened here, right? The missing kids, the— the fires, the lab.”

“Of course we know everything about this town, Steven,” Catherine says curtly. “We’ve lived here twenty years.”

“You really haven’t,” Steve says lightly. “But that’s fine. You know about everything.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “You know the girl that went missing?” he asks, looking up at them. “Barbara. And the whole conspiracy with the lab and the chemical spill and everything.”

“Yes,” Walter says. “We heard about all of that.”

They’re both staring at him curiously now, quiet while he looks back. 

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “I was involved in all of that.” He watches their confusion deepen the wrinkles on their faces. “She was my ex-girlfriend’s best friend. She went missing from here, from—” He gestures out the window, toward the pool that’s covered with a blue tarp. The water is probably swimming with dead leaves. 

“You know anything about Billy Hargrove?” 

Catherine blinks. 

“The… The boy that passed away in the fire,” she says slowly, remembering. “At the mall.”

The fire. 

“The boy,” he mutters to himself before he bites his lip, pausing. “Yeah. The year before he ate shit, he almost fucking killed me.” 

They both blink at him, blank. 

“And he tried to kill me,” he continues, “because I stopped him from killing a thirteen-year-old.” He takes a shuddering breath, uncrossing his arms, looking at them, and his vision wavers as he remembers it, as he remembers the glass smashing over his head, the floor against his back, Billy’s laughter. The kids’ shouting. “He beat… the shit out of me. Gave me a grade four concussion.”

He looks back at forth between them, waiting for a reaction, but they keep staring. Catherine’s eyes are wide, but Walter just looks angry. Like Steve is wasting his time. 

“It took me three weeks to recover from it,” he says. “And you were in fucking Spain.”

His voice shakes. 

“The mall fire,” he continues before they can say anything. “You know about it. Fourth of July, thirty dead.” 

“Yes,” Catherine says softly. 

“Take a wild fucking guess where I was.”

Silence. 

Until Catherine’s voice says quietly, “...The mall.”

“Inside,” Steve says softly, looking at her intently. “With my friends, with the kids I babysit— and it wasn’t just a— a fucking fire.” He takes a shaky breath. “I can’t tell you what really happened, because I signed a goddamn nondisclosure agreement—”

“Steven, what—” 

“But I can tell you,” he interrupts loudly. “That I got the shit beaten out of me again.” 

A flash of light. A fist cracking against his face. An ache in his ribs, a sharp pain in the side of his neck. His own voice, rough from screaming, broken and pleading. 

“Another grade four concussion. The medics asked for my home number so one of you could come to pick me up,” he says, his throat tightening, his eyes stinging. “And I had to tell him that you were in Chicago for a fucking business trip.” His breath shudders, and his vision blurs, and his hands are trembling as he gestures aimlessly, pointing to nothing. “I was driven home by a fucking government agent, because you weren’t here.” 

“Steven—”

“You heard about the kids in town that were murdered?” he says, his voice breaking, tears sparking his eyes. “The kids that were fucking… broken?”

“...Of course we heard about them.”

Steve exhales shakily. 

“...There was a serial killer loose in town,” he says, fingers curling into fists. “And you never even called.” 

“We were working,” Walter snaps. 

“You’re always fucking working,” Steve says strongly. “I got used to you not being around, but it didn’t make it any fucking easier. You weren’t here when I had concussions, when I couldn’t fucking see, or when my hearing started going, you weren’t here when I could barely move because my injuries were infected, you were never fucking here.”

“Oh, Lord,” Walter says, rolling his eyes and scoffing, glancing at Catherine. Steve’s stomach twists, and he can’t see clearly. Everything is too bright, swimming in his tears. “How were we supposed to know you were hurt?” 

Hurt. 

He makes it sound so… little. Like Steve had a papercut. Like he needed a band-aid and a kiss on his forehead to feel better. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, Dad,” Steve says adamantly. “Obviously you wouldn’t fucking know, that’s not the problem— The problem is that you weren’t here for any of it, for anything I’ve gone through, and even when you knew what the fuck was happening in this town you couldn’t even be bothered to call, to— to make sure I was okay.”

“You said you’re an adult, didn’t you?”

Steve exhales. 

He doesn’t feel like an adult right now. 

He feels like a child. Like he’s five years old, searching for his parents’ attention, their affection, anything. Like they’re looking past him, through him, ignoring him in the hopes that he finally shuts up. 

Seen and not heard. 

Seen and not heard.

“You said you signed a nondisclosure agreement,” Walter says. “Let’s say you really did— You have to be eighteen for contracts to be legally binding. So you’re an adult.” Walter looks into his eyes, like he’s sizing him up. “You shouldn’t need mommy and daddy to take care of you.”

Steve’s lip quivers. He blinks tears back. And he’s stuck here. A kindergartener in the body of a twenty-year-old, the way he was thirty when he was twelve. Unmoving. 

Walter scoffs again, looking at Steve trying not to cry.

“Are you done with your little temper tantrum?” he asks dryly, turning slightly. “It was a long trip back, I’d like to take a shower and rest.”

And Steve longs to tell them. About the monsters, the dark, the flickering and flashing lights. About the Upside Down. To show them the scars that cover his skin. 

“You weren’t here when I was a child, either,” Steve says, stopping him before he can leave, and Walter turns with a heavy sigh, giving Steve a bored look. Steve’s fists tighten. His nails bite into his palms. 

“Steven,” Catherine says, standing from the table like she’s bored too. “That’s quite enough.”

“You weren’t here when I was injured,” Steve says shakily, his vision blurring again. “You weren’t here when I was concussed, and when I couldn’t see, and you weren’t here when I turned twenty, or when I graduated high school, and you weren’t here when I learned how to ride a bike, or how to swim, and you weren’t here when I got my first A, and you weren’t here for parent-teacher conferences— I went by myself,” he adds roughly, gesturing at himself, hitting his own chest. 

“Steven—”

“You weren’t here when I had nightmares or when I got sick, I took care of myself.”

“It made you strong—”

“I was a child!” 

He’s never raised his voice at them like this. Never yelled. But he’s crying now, tears falling freely down his cheeks as they stare like he’s grown another head, and he can’t help it. 

“I didn’t need to be strong,” he shouts. “I needed to be loved, and I fucking wasn’t.” 

“How…” Catherin huffs, her face red, and Steve looks at her, taking a hiccuping breath. “You think we didn’t love you,” she says. “But we provided a roof over your head, and—” 

“A roof wasn’t enough,” he says, holding back a sob. “I used to— I used to wait after school, fucking waiting for you to come get me, to— to drive me home, I used to watch all the other kids with their moms and dads, I used to watch them laugh, and smile, and hug them, and I fucking waited for you. I waited until nighttime once, and you never fucking came.” 

“Steven, that’s just irresponsible,” Walter says, and Steve hiccups. 

“I was nine,” he says. “I waited for you, all I fucking wanted was my parents to drive me to school, and you were off in fucking Paris or wherever the hell you were. I had to teach myself how to ride a bike, and I had to take myself, because you weren’t here—”

“I have responsibilities—”

“I was your responsibility,” Steve finally screams. “I was your son.”

He takes a gasping breath as they stare at him again, and he wipes his face so roughly it hurts. 

“I missed you,” he chokes. “I needed you.”

“You clearly didn’t need us that much,” Walter says, huffing, gesturing at him. His wedding band sparkling in the sun and Steve wants to melt it. “If you’re doing just fine now.”

“I’m not,” Steve says before he can stop himself. 

He’s never said it before. That he’s not fine. Even when he was concussed, when Robin was concerned, he insisted he was okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad, Robbie, don’t worry. And he went home. Turned off the lights. Covered the windows. Laid in bed. Cried. 

It’s some cruel, cruel irony that these are the first people to know. 

“I’m so fucking far from fine,” Steve says. He covers his face for a moment, and for a brief second, he wishes he was bruised, purple and blue and bloody. He doesn’t know why. Maybe so they could fucking see it. So they’d believe him. 

“...The first time my best friend said I love you to me, I laughed.” He looks at them, and he suddenly wants to crumple to the floor, to lean against the wall, to go to bed. Exhausted. “I never fucking heard it from you guys. Never heard it from my girlfriend. I didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t know what it fucking meant.”

He looks at them across the room. They’re both near the doorway of the kitchen, both turned slightly toward each other like they’re leaving, hesitating to watch Steve. Like he’s putting on a performance, like he’s pretending.

“You really fucked me up,” he says weakly, tiredly. 

 They’re quiet for a moment. And he doesn’t know what he expects. An apology. We’re sorry, Steve, we’ll be better parents from now on. We’ll be present in your life. 

“I really don’t like the language you’ve been using today, Steven,” Catherine says. Ignoring him. The tears on his face. “It’s really no way to speak to your parents.”

But he supposes he should have seen this coming. The deflection. 

He looks away, blinking tears back and exhaling, but before he can say anything, a car pulls into the driveway. He turns to look out the window, wiping his face as he catches the end of Eddie’s van before it’s hidden from view, and in spite of it all, he smiles. 

That was quick. 

He should have anticipated Eddie coming over as soon as he could. He probably sped on the way here. 

“Who…” Walter starts, but he’s interrupted by the front door swinging open. The doorknob hits the wall with a muffled bang, and a moment later, Eddie appears behind in the entry to the kitchen.

Walter and Catherine part, looking him up and down, looking, scandalized, at the rips in his jeans, the swords on his t-shirt that form an upside down star, at his hair. And he isn’t even wearing a jacket or any jewellery, and Steve’s stomach flutters with the realization that Eddie really didn’t waste any time. 

Eddie’s eyes find Steve, and he crosses the room, pushing past Walter. 

“Are you okay?” he asks Steve quickly, his eyes scanning over his face, his body, lingering on the tear tracks on his cheeks. “Did they touch you?”

“No,” Steve says softly, wiping his face again, and Eddie’s eyes follow the movement. Steve thinks he must be holding himself back; usually after nightmares, he wipes Steve’s tears for him, the same way Steve wipes his. “No, I just…”

Eddie exhales, looking into Steve’s eyes, looking for a lie. He’s out of breath, like he ran here instead of drove, and Steve smiles weakly. Until Walter interrupts. 

“Who the hell do you think you are,” he says forcefully, and Eddie and Steve turn to look at him. “Coming into my house.”

Eddie looks back and forth between Walter and Catherine like he’s trying to memorize them both, scanning their clothing the way they scanned his. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are pursed, and even though from here Steve can’t really see him, there’s a warm pit in his stomach, because Eddie’s so beautiful, and he came for Steve, and he’s stepping forward a little bit like Walter is going to try to lay a hand on Steve, and Steve’s never felt so fucking safe before, and he doesn’t know what to do with this, and—

Catherine gasps. Steps back with a slight stumble even though she’s not wearing her high-heels anymore. Clutches at her pearls. 

“You’re that boy,” she says, touching Walter’s arm and pulling. “That Hellfire boy, you—”

“Eddie didn’t do anything,” Steve interrupts, his stomach dropping, but Walter recognizes him too, and he turns red, glancing at Steve and then looking back at Eddie. 

“Get out of my house,” he says, his voice too loud, and Steve feels so fucking small, and he hates feeling small.

But Walter starts toward Eddie when he doesn’t say anything, and Steve remembers suddenly that he isn’t small anymore. 

He steps in front of Eddie, knocking Walter’s hand aside before he presses his fingertips to his chest, pushing him back gently. Walter stares, wide-eyed, red-faced. 

“You lay a finger on him,” Steve says too calmly, “and I will fucking kill you.”

Walter blinks, shock coloring his face darker before he laughs, but it’s a forced laugh, and Steve’s never been more serious in his life, his hands shaking with adrenaline, his heart pounding, and Walter doesn’t seem to know that Steve will do whatever the fuck he needs to for Eddie. 

“You think you can kill me, Steven?” Steve looks into his eyes. 

He’s smaller than Steve. Not by much, but when Steve lifts his chin, he has to look down at him to hold eye contact. 

“We just had a whole conversation about how little you know me,” he says quietly. “Do you really wanna fucking test me?”

He hears Eddie exhale behind him, but he doesn’t look away, staring into Walter’s eyes, challenging him, and his hands almost itch. He hasn’t had any fights in a good long while. 

Walter looks past him, breaking eye contact, staring Eddie down now, but his eyes flicker like he’s looking across Eddie’s face, analyzing him. Steve knows what he’s looking at. The scar on his cheek, the mangled skin. Steve loves that scar. It had to be stitched together, but it makes Steve think of the constellation Cassiopeia, almost W-shaped. He longs to trace it someday. To thank it. 

Walter backs up finally, and Steve exhales, watching him go back across the room to stand with Catherine, who’s still watching, wide-eyed, a hand on her chest over her heart. 

“Sickening, Steven,” Walter says, shaking his head and glaring at Eddie. “Really. I thought I raised you to associate yourself with better—”

“You didn’t raise me,” Steve interrupts. “Stop… acting like you were some fantastic fucking father that a fucking stand-up job of raising a son, you didn’t do shit.” He stares, breathing hard, his back tingling with some sort of anticipation. “I did. Not you.”

“So you think you’re so independent?” Walter says with that awful fucking laugh again. 

“I had to be,” Steve says softly. Eddie is closer now, still behind Steve, but less like Steve is protecting him, and more like Eddie is here. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

Walter looks at him. At Eddie. He’s holding the back of a chair, exasperated, and he shakes his head. 

“Never thought I’d be so disappointed in my own son.”

Steve looks away, hesitating. 

“Eddie.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. His voice is so kind. 

“...Can you go upstairs and pack me a bag?”

“‘Course.”

Eddie touches the small of his back gently as he passes by toward the entryway, where he passes Walter and Catherine with a faux polite nod that’s so on brand for Eddie that Steve wants to smile. 

Walter glares at Steve while Eddie goes upstairs, and Steve can hear him breathing heavily. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw him this angry. 

And then Walter is standing up straight abruptly, muttering something about fucking trash in my house under his breath as he leaves the kitchen, and Steve’s stomach drops as he follows, his vision blurring as his blood courses in his veins, fingers twitching. But instead of going up the stairs, Walters passes by them, headed toward the master bedroom, and Steve stops, watching. He scoffs when he realizes where he’s headed, and he leans against the wall. He hears a thump upstairs. 

“Steven, you really…” Catherine shakes her head in disappointment. She’s got her arms crossed, twisting the plastic pearls of her necklace. “This is all very disrespectful.”

Steve looks down at her. 

“...You think you deserve my respect?” he asks quietly. She looks at him like she’s alarmed. “You think I care if you think you do?”

He looks away before she can respond.

Eddie is coming down the top steps just as Walter appears again. 

Steve looks up at Eddie.

He’s carrying a duffel bag on his shoulder, carrying the nail bat in one of his hands, and he raises an eyebrow as Walter yells at Steve from across the room. 

“Where is it?”

“Nowhere you’ll find it,” Steve says lightly, lifting a hand to catch the bat as Eddie tosses it to him as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. Walter is huffing, and puffing, and it’s kind of ridiculous now. 

“What’s he looking for?”

“Gun.”

“Ah.” Eddie is almost smiling. The gun is in the back of his van, taken for target practice when Nancy taught Robin how to shoot.

Steve turns back into the kitchen to grab his keys, swinging the bat. It scratches the tile floor. When he turns back around, Walter and Catherine are staring at it, at the rusted nails and the blood-stained wood. 

“What the hell…”

Steve swings it again, moving his keys so he’s holding the one for his car between his fingers. 

“You don’t know me.”

Eddie is by the door with the duffel bag when Steve gets to the hallway, and he looks into Steve’s eyes. The light is dimmer now. The sun’s starting to go down. 

“Come to my place, yeah?” Eddie says softly, touching Steve’s arm gently, his thumb brushing over the fabric of his jacket before he squeezes. His eyes are shining earnestly, and Steve’s chest aches. He nods. 

They both step out onto the porch. It’s cold out, the air biting at Steve’s face, but it feels refreshing, like inside the house was stuffy and claustrophobic, like he’d been trapped under a blanket for too long. Eddie goes to the van, tossing the duffel bag in as he gives Steve one more look. 

“Is there anything else we don’t know about you?” Walter says behind Steve, who turns to look at him again. 

Walter’s eyes are lingering on Steve’s arm, like he can see Eddie’s handprint on it, and then he looks into Steve’s eyes, shining with disgust and judgement and hatred, and Steve

doesn’t

fucking 

care. 

“You’ll never get to know,” he says quietly. 

And he leaves. 

He’s vaguely aware of Catherine saying something, her voice high-pitched and wavering, and Walter shouting something about the car, but Steve ignores them, blank and empty as he gets into the car and pulls out of the driveway. He glances at the house in the rearview mirror as he leaves. It occurs to him that with the location of it, hidden by trees, away from town, Steve could live in Hawkins all his life and never have to look at the house again. 

He smiles. 

Eddie and Wayne live in an apartment in town now. It’s two floors above a cafe that opened a little after Starcourt, and sometimes when Steve is going to the door, he smells coffee and baking pastries. It’s nice. 

He doesn’t smell it at this time of night, though. 

He and Eddie arrive around the same time, and they’re quiet as Steve parks next to the van, grabs the bat and silently follows Eddie to the door. Eddie leads him in, up the narrow stairs, and they’re quiet as he unlocks the apartment, as they step inside and kick their shoes off. Steve leaves the bat resting against the wall by the door in Eddie’s room, and Eddie tosses him his bag. 

Steve looks into it, rummages through the bunched-up, hastily-packed underwear, jeans, shirts, sweaters. His fingers brush cold cans that he recognizes as his hairspray, and he smiles, his stomach fluttering because Eddie remembered where they were. 

“Steve,” Eddie says softly. He’s leaning against his dresser. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says easily. 

“Steve,” Eddie says again, almost whispering. 

“I am, Eddie,” Steve says, looking up at him, his hands falling still on top of the bag. Eddie’s eyes are shining with concern, and his arms are crossed. “I really…” He trails off, looking at the ground. 

It’s hardwood, the wood faded and creaky, and there are a few gaps between the floorboard. He can see the nails in them, shining in the dim light of Eddie’s room, and it makes Steve think about the tiles in the kitchen at his parents’ house. Faded and dull and cracked because they’ve been walked on. Used. 

“I feel great,” he says, looking back at Eddie, half-smiling. 

Eddie’s expression softens. 

“Just tired,” Steve adds, looking away. “I haven’t… cried. In a while.”

“You wanna lay down?”

Steve hesitates. 

“...Can I borrow a sweater?”

Eddie smiles. 

“‘Course, Stevie.”

Steve likes it when he calls him that. 

It makes him feel little, but not in the way his parents make him feel. Not little like a little boy, like he has to stay quiet, stay still, like he can’t ask for a second serving of dinner or turn the volume of the television up past three in case he pisses them off. 

Little like Eddie will take care of him. 

Which he does, even though he has no idea how it really affects Steve, how it makes butterflies erupt in his belly every time he touches him, every time he calls him Stevie. He has no idea how hard Steve is crushing on him, and a part of Steve hates him for it. For how sweet he is, how kind. 

Because there are nights he’ll call after a nightmare and Steve will look out at the moon while he listens to him cry, while he listens to Eddie tell him he called because in the dream he lost Steve, because he needed to make sure he was okay. 

Because Eddie touches him in ways no one else does, in ways no one else ever has. In ways Steve wouldn’t ever let anyone. 

He blushes every time he remembers that night, the night he’d spent after staying up too late watching movies with Eddie. He’d had a gruesome nightmare, but as soon as his eyes opened he couldn’t remember what had happened. But Eddie was there, tentatively touching his hand, eyes wide awake, saying Stevie. Stevie. I’m right here. You’re okay. And Steve had just cried, reaching out to Eddie, who took him in his arms. 

He held Steve until he stopped crying. And then he kept holding him. Steve had pushed his face into Eddie’s chest, gripping his shirt, listening intently to Eddie’s heartbeat. It was a little fast, but it still helped. 

And then Eddie pushed a hand into Steve's hair. 

Steve was already falling asleep, and he had let out a soft hum. Eddie pulled his hand away, apologizing. 

Sorry, I know you don’t like your hair being touched.

And even half-asleep, Steve spoke. 

Only you. Please.

Eddie pushed his hand back into his hair gently. Steve hummed. Eddie’s fingers twisted around the strands carefully as his other hand slid up Steve’s back, and Steve just fucking melted. He let out a whine that he could barely hear, and Eddie’s fingers curled into a fist, gripping his hair in a tightening fist until it almost hurt, and Steve groaned. 

Too hard?

Mm. Feels good.

Eddie kept doing it until Steve fell asleep, pulling his hair, squeezing his fist in it, tugging until Steve’s scalp ached dully, and when Steve woke up, Eddie was still asleep, his hand still in Steve’s hair. And then it was normal, every time they slept in the same bed or sat too close on the sofa during movie nights, Eddie’s fingers would find Steve’s hair again.  

They both change. Eddie tosses Steve some sweatpants along with the sweater, and Steve smiles, glancing up at Eddie as he changes, facing away from Steve. He’s paler than Steve, and Steve kind of wants to see what their skin would look like side-by-side, pressing close. His scars are mesmerizing. Steve wants to trace them with his fingertips, with his lips and tongue. 

Eddie beckons to Steve when they’re climbing into his bed, and Steve sighs. They move into their normal position, Eddie leaning against the wall, Steve between his legs, back to his chest. 

He feels little again. 

Eddie’s arms wrap around him, hugging him tightly, and Steve lets his head fall back to his shoulder, sighing. He slides his hands over Eddie’s forearms. He’s wearing a sweatshirt, and the fabric is soft. Steve plays with one of the folds, looking around the room, and he realizes they haven’t communicated at all about how long Steve is staying here. 

His bag is on the floor by the dresser. It blends right in with Eddie’s dark clothes littered around the floor and hanging out of his drawers, with the dark rug that Eddie bought when he moved in. 

Steve’s eyes trail across the wall, across the sliding doors of the wardrobe that are partially open, the interior hidden in shadows. At the CORRODED COFFIN tapestry that’s pinned up, the Judas Priest poster on the back of the door. The photos and magazine pages and posters that are covering the old, faded wallpaper. Eddie’s lamps have a golden glow, and it makes everything look warm. Steve loves it here. 

“How long am I staying here?” Steve asks softly, and Eddie snorts, arms tightening, burying his face in Steve’s neck. 

“Forever?” he says. “I hope?” 

Steve’s stomach flutters. 

“You want me to stay forever?” 

“Mm.”

Steve exhales when Eddie’s hand finds his, and he watches, spreading his fingers to lace with Eddie’s. His hand is a little cold. 

“Sounds nice,” he says quietly. Eddie hums. He sets his chin on Steve’s shoulder. 

“You still feel okay?” he asks softly, his voice soft and breathy next to Steve’s ear. 

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. He feels so okay. Here in Eddie’s room, in his clothes, in his arms. “I feel good.”

One of Eddie’s arms reaches across his chest like he’s keeping him secure, and he rubs Steve’s upper arm, squeezing gently. 

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

Steve takes a breath, unlacing their fingers to trace the back of Eddie’s hand. 

“It was kind of, like. A lot of stuff.”

“Tell me, Stevie.”

Steve closes his eyes. 

“They, uhm. Came back and just… started telling me my car was dirty, started saying the— the kitchen floor was dirty, that they should get the tiles replaced. They didn’t even say hi.”

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes. 

“And when I tried to leave, I had to, like, explain I had to pick up the kids, and Dad started, just, berating me for babysitting, and Mom made this… comment. That I was acting like an adult. And when I said I am one, Dad…” He exhales, pressing closer to Eddie, whose arms tighten. “Said I’d be an adult when I graduated high school.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment before, 

“What?”

“Yeah, they don’t— they don’t even know how old I am.”

“Holy fuck, Stevie,” Eddie says softly, squeezing him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Steve ignores the butterflies that erupt in his stomach. 

“It’s…” 

“You don’t have to say it’s fine.”

“...It’s not fine.”

“‘S right.”

“I tried… I tried telling them, like— showing them how they just don’t know me, but they just— everything I fucking said, they just… Tried to make it so it wasn’t their fault. Pretended it was no big deal, even though— even though it is, I…”

“It is,” Eddie murmurs softly. “It matters to you, they never treated you right, Stevie.”

Steve exhales shakily, relaxing against him again. 

“They’re so fucking condescending,” he says after a moment, his voice softer. Eddie rubs his arm gently, reassuringly. “He always does this thing, where, like… If I point something out, or I— I do something, he pulls this bullshit, and he’ll say, like, Oh, let’s say that’s true, as though I don’t fucking know, like I didn’t just fucking tell him.”

Eddie lifts a hand and reaches to touch his hair, running his fingers through it gently. 

“He said I’d be an adult when I graduate high school, and then as soon as I told him I did, and I am, suddenly I actually know nothing about adulthood and I haven’t experienced the world, and I’m— Whose fucking fault is that? They never took me along on any of their fucking trips, they left me in fucking Hawkins, Indiana.”

Eddie plays with his hair, listening to him talk. His fingers are so gentle. 

“He said I was having a temper tantrum,” Steve says, looking across the room. Eddie’s hand tightens, tugging gently. “I just… They make me feel like— like such a child. And it’s bullshit, because how can I feel so fucking little when they never treated me like I was little when I was?” he rambles. “They acted like I was a grown man when I was a kid, they acted like I knew how to live my life, but they were never there to show me how. And now I am grown, but they tell me I’m disrespectful, and that I’m having a tantrum, and…”

“Take a deep breath for me,” Eddie says softly. 

Steve inhales slowly, closing his eyes, and he exhales after holding it for a moment, relaxing against Eddie again, who murmurs a soft, “There you go.”

“Can I tell you something?” Eddie asks quietly. Steve nods, holding his forearm with both hands as his fingers drag through his hair slowly. “...You did everything fucking right, Stevie.”

“...You think?” 

“Jesus, yeah. They’ve never treated you the way you deserve, Steve, you have every fuckin’ right to stand up for yourself, to— to tell them to go fuck themselves.” 

Steve exhales again, a feeling settling in his chest. 

“I hate them,” he says quietly. 

“Me too.”

“And I hate that fucking house.”

“You’re here now.”

Eddie tightens his fist in his hair, and Steve sighs, closing his eyes. 

“Love you,” Eddie says softly. Steve squeezes his eyes shut for a second. 

Eddie says that a lot. Every time they say goodbye, every time Steve does something stupid, every time either of them has a nightmare. 

It was a nightmare that prompted it the first time. Eddie had slept over at Steve’s, and Steve woke up to Eddie crying in his sleep, his body shaking as he cried into the pillow, whimpering and clutching at the blanket. Steve woke him up carefully, touching his face, his hands, his arms, squeezing as gently as possible, whispering his name. Eddie woke after a minute, his eyes finding Steve in the dim moonlight, and before Steve could even say anything, he was reaching out for him, sobbing and pressing his face into Steve’s chest as Steve pulled him into a hug. He whispered it when he stopped crying, as they were rocking back and forth, as Stee combed the tangles out of his hair. 

I love you, Stevie.

And Steve’s world flipped inside out, and he was in pain, every cell in his body on fire, because he was hearing it, because Eddie told him, and because only Robin had ever said it to him like that, all three words, carefully annunciated, intentionally said. And also because Steve knew how he meant it. 

I love you too, Eddie.

“Why’d you come?” Steve asks. “After taking the kids home?”

“Wanted to make sure you were okay,” Eddie says. “...Had a feeling.”

“...Thank you,” Steve whispers. 

Eddie takes a breath, tugging again before he turns his face and presses a kiss to Steve’s temple. 

He’s never done that before. 

Steve feels almost sick with butterflies, and he can feel his face flushing with heat, but he can’t suppress his smile. Eddie looks at him for a moment, and then he does it again, slowly. Deliberately. 

Steve exhales, letting himself feel it, Eddie’s lips on his skin, his breath warm and close. Eddie’s hand tightens again, his fist squeezing in Steve’s hair before he lets go. 

And then Eddie’s lips press to his cheek, slowly and softly, and then again, and again, slowly moving down toward Steve’s jaw. Steve tilts his head, his eyes closed, and he’s scared to open them, scared he might wake up. 

Eddie’s lips press under his jaw, sucking a soft kiss into his skin, and when he pulls away, his lips brush Steve’s skin as he murmurs, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

And Steve whimpers. 

He’s gripping Eddie’s arm tightly, and he feels like he might start crying, but Eddie just kisses him again, moving down to the side of his neck, gently pulling his hair out of the way. 

Steve bites his lip to hold in another sound, squeezing his eyes shut as he listens to it, to Eddie’s lips on his skin, to Eddie’s soft, slow breathing, as he feels Eddie’s fingers tug at his hair. He feels fucking weightless, like he’s floating in the air, like nothing in the world exists right now except for them. 

“So proud,” Eddie breathes against his neck, kissing him again. 

“Did I do good?” 

Steve wants to jump out the fucking window. 

His voice comes out weak and breathy, quiet and so fucking desperate that he flushes with embarrassment, and he opens his eyes like he’s going to look for an escape, to leave even though he just got here, but Eddie…

“So fucking good, Stevie,” he whispers without hesitation. “You did so good, I’m so proud of you.”

Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and he exhales sharply, his head falling back as Eddie kisses his neck again. It’s wet this time, and Steve keens at the thought of Eddie’s open mouth against him, of his tongue and his teeth and his spit. 

“Eddie,” Steve whines breathlessly, squeezing his arm. 

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks quickly, his hand pausing in Steve’s hair. 

“Don’t stop,” Steve says weakly. Eddie hums softly, his hand tightening, and Steve lets out a soft noise before Eddie kisses a slow line up the side of his neck until he finds his earlobe, where he pauses, kissing it before he sucks it between his lips as gently as possible. “Eddie.”

“Alright?”

“Mm. Feel so good.”

Eddie hums quietly, and Steve keens as he nibbles at the shell of his ear, his teeth nipping gently, tenderly. His arm tightens around Steve’s torso, his other hand squeezing in his hair so hard that it hurts, and one of Steve’s hands finds Eddie’s leg next to him, gripping just above his knee desperately. 

“I got you,” Eddie murmurs into his ear, like he just knows how overwhelmed Steve is, how his whole body is flooding with this feeling. 

“You got me,” Steve repeats absently, head lolling back onto Eddie’s shoulder. 

“‘S right, Stevie.”

He kisses his neck again, harder, more confidently, his teeth and tongue on Steve’s skin, and Steve fucking hopes he leaves marks in his path. He wants evidence of this, proof that it wasn’t all in Steve’s head like some fucked up wet dream. 

Eddie tugs on his hair, moving his hand to the back of his head before twisting his fingers in it tightly. Steve lets out a broken noise, biting his lip to muffle it. 

“Eddie—”

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes. 

“I…”

“What is it?” Eddie whispers, kissing his jaw gently. “Tell me.”

“Need more,” Steve says weakly, his face hot with embarrassment. 

“More what?” Eddie murmurs, and Steve wants to be annoyed, to roll his eyes and tell Eddie not to make him say it, but he can’t, because his head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and his limbs feel heavy, and he feels fucking high, just because of Eddie’s mouth on him, because of Eddie’s sweet words. 

“You,” he chokes. “Please, Eddie, I need you, please—”

“Fuck,” Eddie exhales, tugging Steve’s hair so his head tilts before he leans down and kisses his neck, his lips brushing his skin as he speaks. “I need you too, Stevie.”

Steve stifles a whine, pressing his lips together as Eddie sits up a little, leaning closer to kiss his neck, and he’s almost kissing his throat now as Steve’s head falls back, and Steve reaches up to his head, pushing his fingers into Eddie’s curls messily. 

“Eddie, please,” he says softly. “More.”

“Shit,” Eddie hisses, breathing hard against Steve’s neck. “Turn around, come here.”

Steve turns, aching when he has to leave Eddie’s chest, and he tries to keep his balance on Eddie’s soft mattress that’s covered in blankets. Their legs tangle, and Steve has to take a moment to sort them out, and Eddie giggles softly, reaching to push Steve’s hair out of his face. Steve smiles hopelessly, moving forward. 

Eddie pulls at his legs, tugging him so their legs are wrapped around each other, so their chests almost press, so their faces are close. Eddie looks wrecked, his cheeks flushed, hair messy, eyes shining like he’s going to cry, and Steve knows he can’t look much better. He exhales, reaching up to trace his scar. It stretches when Eddie smiles. Eddie closes his eyes, turning his head to let him.

His hands slide up from Steve’s legs to his hips, his waist, pressing and firm and gentle on Steve’s sides. Steve slides his hands to hold his face, leaning close enough that their noses nudge together. 

Eddie exhales, his eyes fluttering shut, and his hands slide to Steve’s back, pulling him closer as he murmurs. 

“So fucking proud of you, Stevie, I can’t even tell you,” he says softly, nudging their noses together again. “No fucking words.”

Steve’s body flushes with heat, and he melts, his hands slipping to Eddie’s neck. He can feel the scars under his fingertips. 

He tilts his head, his eyes stinging as Eddie keeps talking, keeping whispering and murmuring about how proud he is. 

No one’s ever told Steve that they’re proud of him. He’s never heard it before. 

But Eddie says it so earnestly, like he’s fucking reverent, and Steve listens. 

And then Eddie is kissing him between words, his lips gentle and a little chapped against Steve’s, and Steve feels like he’s going to fall over with it all, his lips parted because he can barely kiss back. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his chin, whispering to him. 

“So proud of you, Stevie, you did so fucking good. So brave.” 

Steve’s hands find Eddie’s head again, his fingers pushing into his curls, and he sighs, listening and listening and listening and absorbing the feeling of Eddie’s lips pressing to his softly. 

His hands tighten in his hair after a moment, and he pulls Eddie in, shutting him up with a hard, lingering kiss. Eddie’s hands tighten on Steve’s waist, his fingers pressing into the scarred skin, and Steve’s whole body aches. They part with a slick sound and a gasp, but Steve pulls him back in before he can say anything, tugging his hair. 

Eddie kisses him back desperately, clutching at his back, tilting his head to kiss him deeper, and Steve thinks he might be dying. It feels so fucking good, and the way Eddie is touching him…

His fingers dig into the knit of the sweater he’s wearing, holding him close as his legs tighten around him, and after a moment, one of his hands slides around Steve’s side, up over his chest slowly until it reaches his neck. It feels like he’s being so careful, gentle like Steve is delicate, and Steve’s never wanted to feel delicate before, but he’s basking in Eddie’s touch like it’s sunlight. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, and their chests are almost touching as Eddie nibbles his lip the way he did with his ear earlier. 

It feels kind of silly, really, in the grand scheme of things. 

That they’d survive the end of the world, stop the end of the world, live through horrors beyond comprehension, and Eddie is proud of him for yelling at his parents. And now they’re making out, kissing each other stupid in Eddie’s bedroom, surrounded by his posters and blankets and the glow of his cracked lamps. 

But Steve can’t think of a single place he’d rather be. 

Eddie is holding the side of his face now, his fingers gentle on his skin, and Steve holds in a groan when Eddie’s tongue slips past his lips, his chest tightening. 

Eddie pulls away and they both gasp for air. 

“Baby,” Eddie breathes. 

“God, yeah.”

“Was that okay?” Eddie asks quietly, brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheek, and Steve closes his eyes as they start to sting. He doesn’t want to cry right now. 

“Yeah,” he says weakly, almost choking the word out. “It was so okay, Eddie, I… Please.”

Eddie kisses him again. Pulls away to breathe, resting their foreheads together. 

“Want you,” Steve says softly, whispering. 

He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but he can’t take it back. 

Especially when Eddie is kissing him like this, like he’d die if he didn’t, like he’s drowning and Steve is air. Steve’s arms tighten around his neck, and he’s shivering, chills spreading over his skull, down his spine, as he listens to the soft breathy hums Eddie is letting out as he listens to the wet sounds of their lips, their tongues. Eddie licks into his mouth, licks his lips and his teeth and the roof of his mouth, and Steve lets him, even though their lips and chins are wet now, slick with each other’s spit, and it’s a little gross. Steve doesn’t fucking care. It feels good. 

He lets out a whine, letting his jaw drop for Eddie to suck on his tongue for a moment, and his cheeks flush with heat. Eddie smiles against his mouth, kissing him again. 

“You still want more?” Eddie murmurs, caressing his cheek. Steve exhales, nodding. 

“Please.”

Eddie presses wet kisses over his jaw, down his neck, and Steve melts, his head falling back to give him room. He shivers, tightening, when Eddie’s lips find his throat, pausing to suck on his skin lightly before he continues, kissing across the scars on his neck. 

His scars are lighter than Eddie’s. Shallower. A metallic, faded pink that only stands out against his skin when he tans. 

His parents didn’t notice them. 

Or the scar on his chin, which Steve forgets about himself a lot of the time. It’s from that night at Starcourt. He used to stare at it in the mirror, hating it, hating himself. It’s faded so much it’s barely noticeable, but everyone knows it’s there. Steve knows it’s there. 

Eddie knows it’s there. 

He kisses it when he finishes with Steve’s neck, holding Steve’s face in place as he presses kiss after kiss after kiss to it, softly and tenderly, and Steve wonders if he looks at this scar the way Steve looks at his scar. 

“Eddie,” he breathes. 

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

Steve bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut, and Eddie presses his thumb to his lower lip, pulling it free before he kisses him gently. 

“Do you wanna take your sweater off?” he asks quietly, whispering. Steve nods.

“You too,” he whispers, opening his eyes and meeting Eddie’s gaze. He looks so… tender. His eyes are shining at Steve, and he’s almost smiling, just barely, and his face is so relaxed, more at peace than Steve thinks he’s ever seen him while awake. “Please.”

Eddie nods, kissing him again before pulling his hands away from his face, and he reaches for the hem of the sweater Steve is wearing. 

They have to separate for him to pull it up over Steve’s head, and Steve shivers when it’s off, the air in the room colder than he expected. Eddie tosses the sweater aside, his eyes skimming over Steve’s body, and he feels shy suddenly, overcome with the desire to hide his chest, his scars, the soft rolls of his belly. 

Eddie pulls his sweatshirt off, and Steve watches, crossing his arms over his stomach as he looks at Eddie’s pale skin, at the scars that mark his sides, his chest. The art that’s inked into his skin. One of the tattoos is almost gone, the bare edges of it rough around the skin graft on his chest. 

“Don’t do that,” Eddie says softly, like he’s scared of disturbing the quiet air. He reaches for Steve’s hands, pulling them away from where they’re hiding his stomach, and he leans in to kiss him, pulling his hands to touch Eddie. “Wanna see you.”

Steve kisses him back, squeezing his eyes shut, and he slides his hands across Eddie’s chest to touch his neck. Eddie hums, pulling his mouth away to look at him, and Steve blushes as Eddie’s eyes scan his chest, his arms, his belly. 

“So fucking gorgeous, baby,” Eddie murmurs against his mouth. 

Steve whines. 

He pulls Eddie into another desperate kiss, and he shifts onto his knees, leaning over him, holding Eddie’s jaw so he tilts his head back. 

“You too,” he says breathlessly, into Eddie’s mouth. “So fucking pretty, Eddie, you’re so beautiful it fucking hurts.”

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie pants, and he wraps his arms around Steve’s legs, holding him as they kiss, and it’s messy and sloppy and desperate, and Steve feels like Eddie is touching him everywhere, his callused hands rubbing away every bad feeling Steve’s ever had. He tilts his head, sliding his tongue along Eddie’s, and Eddie’s hands tighten, squeezing his thighs. 

He slowly shifts onto his knees too, moving up so they’re face to face, and he hugs Steve’s waist, pulling him against himself. Steve groans softly, stifling it, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck again before he slides his hands over his shoulders. 

And they can’t keep their hands off each other, palms and fingers sliding and pressing and touching. Eddie’s hand pushes into Steve’s hair, tugging sharply as he sucks on his lip, as his other hand slides across his back, gentle on his scars, and then he’s running his hands over Steve’s waist and chest and reaching down to his thighs, murmuring beautiful into Steve’s mouth, and Steve believes him. 

They kiss until Steve’s mouth is sore, until his legs are tired from kneeling like this, until his chin is wet again, and Eddie is smiling against his mouth, still fucking talking, still telling Steve how proud he is, how good Steve was. 

He kisses Steve’s neck, and Steve’s head falls back. 

“God, baby,” Eddie breathes, panting as he kisses his neck again, and his tongue slips over Steve’s skin. “You’re so fucking good, shit.”

“Eddie,” Steve chokes, pushing his hand into his hair and pulling. “I need— Fuck, I need you, baby, Eddie, please, I—”

Eddie lowers so he’s kneeling, and he pulls at Steve’s thighs again, pulling him so he’s straddling his hips. Steve wraps his arms around him, letting out a sharp breath as he lowers, as Eddie licks a line up his neck. Eddie’s hand runs over Steve’s stomach until it reaches his sweatpants, and he touches him over them, gently pressing against his dick. Steve chokes, hiding his face in Eddie’s neck. 

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks breathlessly, his other hand running up his back and holding the base of his skull. Steve nods. “Baby, I need words, please.”

“Yes,” Steve gasps. “‘S okay, it’s so okay, please, just… I need you .”

Eddie does it again, pressing and squeezing, and Steve is so hard it almost hurts, but Eddie is so tender with him, rubbing his back as Steve clings to him. They’re both breathing hard, and Steve is biting his lip to stay quiet, but it’s hard when Eddie whispers. 

“Can I take it out?” 

“Fuck,” Steve breathes. “Yeah. Please.”

He holds his breath. 

Eddie’s hands are warm. And gentle. Eddie pulls away just enough to glance down to look, carefully tucking Steve’s sweatpants out of the way, and he’s smiling. Steve tugs at his hair, making him tilt his head back so he can kiss him so hard their teeth clash. Eddie is still smiling, his hand moving slowly, carefully. 

When they part, Steve is gasping for breath, eyes squeezed shut so hard he might get a headache, and Eddie notices, reaching up and rubbing the spot between his eyebrows with his thumb. 

“Breathe for me,” Eddie whispers. Steve exhales slowly, looking at him, watching as he nods, and lowers his head. A moment later, he’s letting a line of spit drip out of his mouth to Steve’s dick and Steve groans quietly, pulling him back into a hug as Eddie slides his hand to spread it. Eddie’s other hand presses to Steve’s back securely, holding him close. 

“Do you like it?” he asks softly. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Steve says, and he doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s so high-pitched, weak and shaky and breathless and so vulnerable he wants to hate it, but he also doesn’t care, because Eddie is holding him like this, touching him and letting him tremble. “I like it, I like it so much, Eddie.”

“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs. 

And fuck. 

Eddie moves his hand slowly, and after a moment he shifts so he’s sitting, and they’re back to how they were before, their legs wrapped around each other. Steve keeps his arms around his neck, hiding his face. Eddie slides his other hand into his hair. 

“You want me to pull?”

“God, yes,” Steve chokes. “Please.”

And Eddie definitely noticed how it made him feel just a moment ago, because—

“Good boy.”

Steve can hear his smile. 

His hand tightens, his fist squeezing in it, and it’s a slow, dull ache that grows on Steve’s scalp. He stifles a groan, pressing his lips together. 

“Stop doing that,” Eddie says breathlessly, his hand loosening, and Steve exhales with relief, his mouth falling open. A moment later he processes Eddie’s words, and he hums in confusion. 

“Keeping yourself quiet,” Eddie says. “Stop, I wanna hear you.”

Steve blinks his eyes open, his eyes blearily finding the Slayer poster above Eddie’s bed. His vision is blurry, and he feels like he’s cross-faded, out of his damn mind with the feeling of Eddie’s hands on him. 

“You don’t want me to be quiet,” he mumbles absently. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud. 

“No,” Eddie says softly, twisting his hand. Steve’es eyes close again. “I don’t want you to be quiet. Let me hear you, baby.” He moves his hand a little faster, tightening his fist, and Steve lets out a whine, burying his face in Eddie’s neck. 

“Louder,” Eddie says, moving his hand faster, his other hand tugging Steve’s hair sharply. 

“Fuck,” Steve gasps before he moans weakly. 

“Louder,” Eddie whispers, his hand tightening in his hair. Steve lets out a sob. 

“Eddie.”

“There you go,” Eddie whispers, tilting his head to kiss his jaw, and it sounds almost condescending, but it wraps around Steve like a blanket. “Good boy. You don’t have to be quiet, baby.”

So he isn’t. 

His mouth stays open, panting against Eddie’s neck and shoulder, letting out soft moans and whines and whimpers and Eddie’s name as Eddie pulls at his hair again, his other hand jerking Steve off, alternating between rapid and fast and slow and tender, squeezing and tugging and drawing it out. 

“I love how you sound,” Eddie murmurs after Steve lets out a sob. “So fucking pretty, baby, God.”

“Eddie,” Steve whimpers. 

“I got you, honey, ’s okay.” He scratches Steve’s scalp, pulling his hair. 

“Fuck, I love you.”

Eddie lets out a soft noise, and he pulls at Steve’s hair sharply, tugging him away from where he’s resting his head, and he kisses him. Steve kisses back after a moment, almost lightheaded, and he clutches at him, at his hair, his arm. 

“I love you too, baby,” Eddie pants when they part, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you so much.”

Steve lets out a long groan, squeezing Eddie’s wrist. 

“Eddie, I—”

“You can come,” Eddie murmurs. “It’s okay.”

He kisses Steve’s cheek, murmuring as Steve buries his face in his neck again, moaning as Eddie’s hand speeds up again, and Steve is crying into his neck, sobbing as his body floods with heat, as he comes.

“There you go, baby,” Eddie whispers, fingers still working, jerking Steve until he finally slows down. “Did so good, Stevie.”

“Fuck.”

Eddie’s hand finally stops, and he lets go, his other hand running through Steve’s hair comfortingly as Steve catches his breath. He tucks Steve back in his sweatpants carefully, patting his crotch when he’s done, and Steve snorts.

“You okay?” Eddie asks softly when Steve is breathing slowly. Steve hums. “That good, huh?”

“Mm. No one’s ever wanted to hear me before.”

“No?” Eddie says, running his hand over Steve’s back, tracing his spine. “But you sound so good.”

“Hm. I don’t know,” Steve mumbles. “One girl commented that I was noisy and it just… made me self-conscious, I guess.”

Eddie hums softly, sliding his hand up to hold the back of his neck, and it feels protective, possessive, and Steve could die happy here. 

“I like hearing you,” Eddie says. “Don’t ever want you to be quiet.”

“Okay.” He takes a breath, nuzzling into Eddie’s neck before he kisses him gently under his jaw. “Can I get you off?”

“Mm. Yeah. ‘S not gonna take much, though, I almost came just listening to you.”

Steve giggles, lifting his head and reaching for the hem of Eddie’s sweatpants as their eyes meet. He pushes his hand under them, watching Eddie’s expression shift, watching his eyes flutter shut and his lips part, watching his shoulders slump. He’s still holding the back of Steve’s neck, and his hand tightens. 

“Can I take it out?” Steve whispers. 

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie breathes. “Go ‘head.”

Steve does, licking his lips, and Eddie pulls him in to rest their foreheads together. Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and spits on his palm before reaching down again, touching him. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, laughing lightly. “Fuck.”

“You always this easy?” Steve asks softly, whispering. Eddie hums.

“Only when I have the… hottest boy in the world touching my dick.”

Steve giggles, sliding his hand up and down slowly, listening to Eddie breathing heavily. He’s having fun. He’s never had fun like this during sex. It’s always felt like something to just do, to get done, to make his partner feel good. But even as he focuses on Eddie, he can’t stop smiling, watching his own hand on Eddie’s dick, listening to the soft moans and hums Eddie lets out. Eddie’s other hand finds Steve’s thigh and squeezes tightly, gripping so hard Steve wonders if he’ll leave bruises under his fingertips. He kind of hopes he does. 

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps after a while. “I’m gonna come.”

Steve kisses him. Messily, desperately. 

“Come for me.”

Eddie grunts, his hand slipping to hold the base of Steve’s head, and he pants, breathing hard against Steve’s cheek as Steve watches, almost mesmerized by the come dripping over his fingers, his knuckles. 

“Jesus,” Steve breathes as Eddie comes down, his grip on Steve’s leg and head relaxing. “You’re so…”

Eddie hums softly. 

“So…”

“I don’t know,” Steve says quietly, pulling his hand away as Eddie softens, and he tucks him back into his sweatpants, imitating him with the gentle pat. Eddie laughs. He has a beautiful laugh. 

“I’ve heard I’m a lot,” Eddie says. 

“You are,” Steve says, looking into his eyes. He smiles, and Eddie tilts his head curiously. “In a good way,” he adds. “I like it.”

Eddie smiles bashfully, his cheeks pink, and Steve nudges their noses together, closing his eyes. 

“...Are you gonna talk about it?” Eddie says after a few moments. Steve exhales, swallowing. 

His hands are in his lap, and he looks at them, at the come on his hand. 

“...I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Eddie touches Steve’s chin, gently prompting him to lift his head. He’s smiling when Steve looks at him, and he leans in to kiss him softly, chastely. Familiarly. 

“Cool,” he says, his lips brushing Steve’s. “Same.”

And Steve laughs. 

Eddie kisses him again, smiling against Steve’s smile, and Steve wraps his arms around his neck, keeping his dirty hand in the air as his other hand pushes into Eddie’s curls. Eddie’s hands slide across Steve’s back. 

Steve pulls away. 

“You are getting come all over my back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eddie says sarcastically, and Steve snorts. “What do you think about a shower to clean you up?”

“Ah, that was your master plan, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah, my goal was to get you naked by getting you mostly naked.”

“Pure genius, Eddie.”

“I know…”

Steve follows him to the bathroom after they get clothes. (Eddie just gives him more of his own) 

It feels nice when Eddie washes his hair. Even though he forms it into a mohawk with the soap. He’s grinning as he does it, his eyes sparkling, amused, and Steve lets him. It also feels nice when Eddie washes his body, which he does without saying anything, scrubbing him gently, tenderly, washing the soap away with the showerhead and pressing kisses to his wet skin. Steve does the same to him. It feels nice to do this, to help him even though he doesn’t really need it. 

Steve kneels to do his legs, and as he does, he kisses his scars. Eddie holds a hand out, blocking the water from hitting Steve’s face. And Steve somehow falls in love all over again. 

The tile wall is cold as Eddie pushes him against it to kiss him, but he doesn’t mind. 

They separate to dry themselves off, and Steve stops him when he starts to scrub his hair dry with the towel. He scolds him lightly, pulling close and taking over, scrunching the ends and drying it gently, noting that he wants to get some product for him. Eddie just gazes at him silently, his hands on Steve’s hips. 

“I love you,” he whispers when Steve hangs the towels. 

Steve hugs him, and Eddie hugs him so tightly that he lifts him up a little bit, his toes touching the ground. 

“I love you too.”

Over his shoulder, Steve can see them in the reflection of the mirror. It’s fogged over from the shower steam, but he can see the shape of them, their dark clothing in the bright light of the bathroom, and Steve sighs. 

They go back to bed, arms around each other as they find their places again, Steve’s back to Eddie’s chest. Eddie kisses his neck. Steve closes his eyes. 

“So what do you say about forever?” Eddie asks quietly as Steve is starting to drift off. He hums, turning to tuck his face into Eddie’s neck, and Eddie pushes a hand into his hair, holding him gently. 

“Forever sounds nice.”

if you like my work maybe consider supporting me on ko-fi or looking into my commissions <3

#say it with me #This Is So Much Longer Than I Expected It To Be #oh well #steddie #steddie one shot #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

[mimimunson]

steddie / ticklish!eddie / one shot

cw- tickling, swearing

wayne notices everything. eagle eyed he picked up on how close steve and his nephew were before they even told him they were dating. he very quickly saw how much eddie liked to fluster steve around their friends, he thought it was only fair that he gave the lad some ammo on eddie.

“when he was younger and showing off, i just used to poke his sides a little, that was quickly an attitude adjustment.” he whispered to steve when eddie had gone to the bathroom. steve’s eyes gleamed at the information, he would never have guessed eddie was ticklish, but slowly everything started adding up.

eddie re-entered the room and steve had a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

“what the fuck did you tell him?” eddie groaned making direct eye contact with his uncle, pointing his finger accusingly.

he was so screwed.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #mine #steve harrington #eddie munson au #stranger things au #steddie au #steddie blurb #steddie imagine #steddie one shot #established steddie #steve harrington au #ticklish!eddie #lee!eddie #ler!steve #steddie tickle fic #stranger things tickle fic #stranger things tickling #queer eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #eddie the banished #eddie munson imagine #steddie fic #bi steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie tickle one shot #one shot

[fuctacles]

in love and war

For Spicy Six Winter Challenge hosted by @thefreakandthehair

T | 2203 | inspired by that one episode of The Office | friends to enemies to lovers, idiot4idiot, questionable courting methods aka pulling pigtails, feelings realization | part 2 | part 3

“I fucking hate him,” Steve seethes into the phone, sniffling loudly right after.

Robin makes a disgusted noise.

“Not right in my ear! Use a tissue!”

“Don't have any,” he murmurs, using his sleeve instead.

“Need me to make a grocery run for you? Get some chicken soup while I’m at it?” She’s joking, but there’s a hint of “I'll do it if you need it” in her voice.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Just a bit cold.”

“I think you should just tell him he’s going too far-”

“No,” he interrupts her. “I want my revenge. This is war now.”

Robin sighs into the receiver the last breath of hope that her best friend will act like an adult.

“Okay. What’s the plan, Captain?”

He winces.

“Scoops flashbacks, pick a different code name.”

She hums in thought but comes up with an alternative suspiciously fast. 

“What's the plan, Batman?”

“What?”

“Because of the bat?”

“That’s stupid.” He searches his brain for the matching nerd trivia. “And that of course, would make you Robin?”

“Precisely!”

He can imagine her grin and it’s hard to be annoyed at that. He scoffs nevertheless. On principle.

“We’re planning revenge on Joker or what?”

“Fine.”

It started like all wars do. With a lover's quarrel. At least that’s how Robin will tell the story at their wedding, but that's over a decade ahead. Now, here, it starts with a snowball. 

“Hey!”

Steve swerves around to look for the culprit but while there’s none in sight, he spots a familiar van, standing nearby. His eyes narrow and he reaches down to scoop some snow.

“I know it’s you, Eddie! Show yourself!”

Silence. He keeps his eyes peeled while slowly moving to the side. The snow crunches under his foot and something black shifts near the front of the van. He throws.

The black something yelps.

“Score!” Steve cheers. 

But just a second later he’s plowed with a flurry of snow. 

“Munson!” he growls, hiding his face and ducking as fast as he can behind his car. There’s no aim or finesse to Eddie’s throws, he’s going for the pure quantity of them, meaning must have been making snowballs since he left the store about an hour ago. Steve has no chance.

The balls are sturdy and precisely formed, he can feel their impact on his back. Can hear them thudding against his car.

“You’ll be paying for the lacquer job!” he yells and the shooting stops. Figuring it’ll give him a second to arm up he starts scooping snow and forming balls. He’s at a disadvantage again, his car is parked in a mostly shoveled parking lot. Unlike Eddie’s, standing on the curb where the snow has been piled up. 

Switching to the offensive would be his best move probably. 

Or he could get in his car and leave. But where’s the fun in that?

He holds a ball ready and peeks out. A snow projectile wheezes right above his head while he nearly takes Eddie’s hat off.

“Nice aim, Munson!”

“Fuck you, jock!”

Steve cackles in delight and for a moment they exchange more throws like that. 

“You chickening out?”

“Never!”

“Out of ammo, huh?”

“You fucking wish!”

He was, though, running out of snow. It was time to attack.

He throws a couple more balls by the front of the car while shuffling to the back.

“That's all you’ve got?!”

He doesn’t answer not to compromise his position. And then, he runs.

Eddie has a ball in hand when he spots him but is too stunned to aim properly. He screams and turns around to flee, but his long legs aren’t going to save him, because Steve isn’t here to chase him.

Instead, he jumps.

They both land in a pile of snow.

“Steve, no! No, no, no!”

“You started it!” he reminds him, shoveling snow down his jacket while he screams.

“Steeeeeeeeeve!”

He thought that was all, but it turned out it was just the beginning.

A furious Henderson walked into the store the next day.

“Eddie is sneezing,” he says like it was Steve’s fault somehow. He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, and?”

“And, if he’s sick he won’t be able to DM and we’re this close to the big bad!”

“Okay, still-”

“And it’s your fault!”

“Yeah, no-”

“Steve.” Dustin pushes himself up on the counter, his feet dangling just to get right into Steve’s face. “You put a finger on my DM and you’ll perish.”

Steve bops him on the forehead. It makes him lose his balance and stumble back on his feet.

“Sure munchkin, I’m quaking in my boots.”

“I’ll make sure mom never makes a chocolate cake for you,” he threatens with a venom no high schooler should be capable of. 

“Is this really about yesterday?” Robin peeks out of the horror aisle. 

“Yes!”

“Apparently.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” she comments and goes back behind the shelves. Which reminds Steve he’s at work and this is, in fact, ridiculous.

“Listen, I’m not touching Eddie. He started it, first of all, and it got a bit out of hand. It’s not like we’re holding snow fights every day,” he waves his hand dismissively.

Dustin squints at him.

“You better not be.”

“No worries, I’m not a child. I have better stuff to do.”

“Uh-huh.”

Steve frowns at his tone.

“Hey, what is that supposed to-”

But Dustin already turned around, off towards the fantasy section.

“Dustin!”

“You’ve raised him well.”

“Shit!” Steve jumped up when Robin appeared next to him. “Warn a guy, jeez.”

“Yeah, no,” she smiles sweetly at him. “Get back to work, since you’re not a child.”

He huffs.

When they close the store a couple of hours later, he realizes he hadn’t taken the other variable into account. Eddie was a child and had nothing better to do.

Moreso, he found back up.

Turns out Max and Lucas were much better shots than him, moving the scales in their favor.

That is until a fire lit up in Robin's eyes and she started throwing snowballs with an alarming accuracy.

“Where did that come from?” he marvels at her with wide eyes. 

“You’re looking at a five-year family champion in snow fights. Twas the only way I could be violent against my gross cousins,” she explains, laser-focused on the ginger strands peeking from behind the van. 

He laughs, mostly providing her with ammo while she does the shooting.

“Why are you encouraging this?!”

Robin was the one on the receiving end of Dustin’s wrath this time. Steve watched it with amused anticipation, but all she did was shrug.

“I just got caught in the crossfire. Don’t involve me in this.”

And then she disappeared in the back.

“Steve!”

Steve sighs. 

“What did I say?!”

“Not to touch your DM? Which I didn’t. He’s the one who brought reinforcements!”

“You must have done something! Eddie doesn’t just start shit!”

Steve scoffs.

“Well, clearly you don’t know your friend so well, then. Because he sure fucking does and he sure fucking did.”

“He sure fucking didn’t!”

“Language!”

And so, Dustin storms out. A moody teenager shouldn’t be getting to him as much as he is, but he does and Steve’s in a foul mood now. 

Robin, bless her heart, stays an extra hour to close up with him again. They both steal glances through the shop’s windows, in search of any anomalies. The coast seems clear.

“Maybe he parked in the back?”

“That wouldn’t make sense.”

They were standing, eyes glued to the glass, keys ready. 

“Well, this whole thing doesn’t make sense.”

Robin nods to that and pushes the door.

There is no ambush. They walk briskly to Steve’s car, and no snowballs swish by. The doors close behind them, wrapping them in metallic safety.

“Steve.”

“Right.”

He shakes out of his stupor and starts the ignition. He drives Robin home and nobody follows. Slowly, he relaxes.

“Hope that’s the end of it.” Robin squeezes his shoulder before leaving. “Take a hot bath, call it an early night. You’re tense like it’s another apocalypse.”

He shoots her a glare.

“Don’t joke like that. Jesus Christ, Robin!”

She waves her hand.

“I’m just saying! You’re stressing over nothing!”

She was right, of course. He sighed.

“I guess. It’s all Dustin’s fault, it’s like he knows exactly how to piss me off.”

Robin rolls her eyes and he doesn’t need to hear how stupid it is to get involved in a high-schooler's drama. He knows.

He drives home with the radio turned down, already winding down from a long day at work. There’s some leftover soup in the fridge and he can whip himself a quick grilled cheese. Maybe he’ll open a beer and watch a sitcom before falling asleep.

Damn, he feels old.

Calmness settles over him with the sound of his tires switching from asphalt to the short driveway to his house. He steps out of the car, noticing the new layer of snow under his shoes. Makes a mental note to shovel it the next day. When he turns around he sees a snowman in his front yard and he frowns at it. When did that happen?

“Duck!”

He does so instinctively, monster-fighting reflexes kicking in. A snowball falls apart against his car’s window.

“It’s a trap!” 

Someone answers to that with a battle cry and all hell breaks loose.

Hands are pulling him behind the car as he watches the snowman fall apart, revealing a red-nosed Eddie. He’s too stunned to react and lets himself be moved around until he’s crouching next to rosy-cheeked Lucas. 

“Changing teams?” He raises eyebrows at him. 

“Well, last time I only joined for Max. Now I think Eddie’s going overboard.”

“No shit,” Steve scoffs. They form snowballs while talking.

“He’s got Mike and Will on his side.”

“Will?”

“He goes where Mike goes.” Lucas shrugs.

“Well, we can take them.” Between his and Lucas’ skills, the nerds stood no chance. He sighs. “I just wanted a nice night in. Maybe I could make a break for it…?” He can’t even see his front door from here.

“I could distract them when they run out of ammo,” Lucas offers.

“You’re a godsend.”

Eddie seems to be possessed. The snowman hid his stash of snowballs, which he now throws without thought. 

“Show yourself, jocks! There’s a traitor in your midst that I’d want a word with!”

Lucas rolls his eyes before jumping up and hitting Eddie square in the chest. 

“Where’s the other two?” he frowns, gathering snow again.

Steve takes a cautious look around just in time to see one of the snow-capped bushes move. He barely ducks from a projectile Mike throws. 

This feels like a proper ambush, the two of them hiding behind a car while the other three close in. Eddie has abandoned his snowman post, his probably-last snowballs carried in his arm while he swings with the other one. 

“I think we should make a run for it,” Steve whispers, trying to hit Eddie while he zig zags out of the way. Thankfully losing some ammunition in the process.

“We’re sticking to the plan. When I tell you, run to your door, I’ll run to my house. It’s not far from here anyway.”

Steve nods, somehow used to listening to plans made by his younger friends.

They keep throwing, looking for the right opportunity, when something happens on the other front.

“Will!”

Mike stands in shock, mouth gaping, as he turns to his best friend. Will giggles mischievously, taking a step back.

“Mutiny! Get him!”

“Now!”

They start running. Will from Mike, Mike after him. Steve to the door. Eddie drops his ammo to cut his way and Lucas scrambles to attack him but he’s unfazed. Before the boy realizes the snowballs don’t bother him because he’s solely focused on Steve, it’s too late.

Eddie grapples Steve, they flop over a bush and roll in the snow.

“Ha! How the turns have tabled!”

“I think it’s-” but he doesn’t get to finish before he’s hit with an avalanche of snow. “What the fuck, Eddie?!”

“You took one of mine and now you have to pay!” the man on top of him declares, holding him in the snow. His cheeks are red and his nose is running but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“If you get any snot on me I’ll fucking-!”

Lucas runs into them, trying to get Eddie off of him but it only makes him cling to Steve and roll them away in the snow.

“Eddie!!!”

They shovel snow at each other until Lucas manages to get a hold of Eddie and Steve scrambles to make a run to his house.

His shivering hands lock the door and he looks through the window. Eddie seems to have given up his pursuit and is giving Lucas a noogie. When he lets go he’s motioning to his van, probably offering him a ride home. He’s even weirder than Steve thought and he just can’t get a read on the guy.

As they are walking away, Eddie turns and spots Steve in the window. Covered in snow and red-faced, he grins brightly and waves at him. 

Steve shows him the finger. 

#spicysixwinterfanworkschallenge #steddie #mine #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #ff #st #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #steddie one shot

[livingintheupsidedown]

Welcome to Family Video!

hi! welcome back to family video! thanks for checking out some of our stock last time, sales really went up! i.. don't know why i told you that.. anyway! if you need help with anything me and my colleagues are more than happy to help! (please ignore them bickering, we're really approachable i swear)

oh also! anything marked with an * is 18+! we have to do that now for...legal reasons

march's recommendations:

steve harrington -

come back to me pt.2 & pt.3 by @crappymixtape

single thread pt.2 by @keeryshouse

bad idea by @abibliophobiaa *

a couple days in ch.1 & ch.2 by @upsidedownwithsteve - modern!steve *

don't call me baby pt.5 by @katyswrites - sugardaddy!steve *

bathroom sex with steve by @stevestummy *

super special secret by @superblysubpar - dad!steve

fearless by @munsonsreputation

sweetness by @upsidedownwithsteve *

soon you'll get better ch.1 by @munsonsreputation

not so family video by @lucasnclair

hate sex with steve blurb by @stevenose *

pretty boy by @rustedhearts - boxer!steve

the one where chaos comes out to play by @harringtonswriting - spidy!steve

eddie munson -

dangerous by @courtingchaos *

the yes policy pt.9 by @pinkrelish

let's go, don't wait by @carolmunson - modern!eddie *

if it barks pt.2 by @luveline - rockstar!eddie

wayne's world by @queenimmadolla - dad!eddie

steddie -

up in flames by @ghost-proofbaby *

we hope to see you again soon!

#clover's favourite fics #fic recs #steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #steddie #steddie one shot #steddie x y/n #steddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[moonstruckme]

If you don't mind, a request from me about a reader who's growing up with an almond mom and an environment where instant food or drink is a sin

So the day she moves in with steedi and they like have a cabinet full of instant food, can fruit and like fast food every week? Amd reader being free can't hold herself and end up has stomachache for being greedy or something like that. Please

Thanks for requesting!

cw: vague mention of household with restrictive eating, nausea, stomach pain

Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 396 words

“M’gonna be sick,” you mumble, curling around your stomach. 

“Told you so,” Steve quips, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth. On the table in front of you, an array of empty junk food containers lies scattered about like a graveyard of indulgences past. 

Eddie grips your hip to haul you towards him, cooing when you groan. “Damn, you really demolished some dessert tonight, huh? Way to go, superstar.” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, but lean into him anyways. He pinches your side, and you bite back a yelp. “I’ll throw up on you, Munson, I’m serious.” 

“You’re meaner like this than you were when you weren’t having any good food,” he decides, impervious to your glare.

“You’re mean. My stomach hurts, and you’re bullying me.” 

Steve takes pity on you, reaching around Eddie to pull your feet into his lap, where he rubs them consolingly. 

Eddie snorts. “I’m not trying to mom you, but I think I know why you have a stomachache.”

“I’ll do it. You need to eat a vegetable” Steve says, still massaging your feet whilst he disparages you. “Your stomach’s probably trying to tell you it’s pissed off because you haven’t had anything with nutritional value in, like, days. You’re gonna feel like shit until you eat something real.” 

“Mm. You do a great mom impression,” you tell him flatly. 

Your boyfriend levels you with a look just as deadpan. “If I don’t see you eat an actual meal tomorrow, you’re gonna be in shitloads of trouble. How’s that?” 

“Spot-on,” you mutter. Then sigh. “I get it, I’ll eat better. I just wanted to try it out, you know? I never got to do this stuff before.” 

Eddie laughs. “That’s obvious. It’s like having a ten-year-old in our kitchen.” 

“A ten-year-old who can reach the top shelf,” Steve adds. “That’s worse than Dustin.” 

You make a miserable noise that you hope sounds pitiful. “If I promise to lay off the junk tomorrow, will one of you please rub my stomach? It really hurts.” 

Eddie eyes you cautiously. “Are you still going to throw up on me?” 

“No,” you say, hiding your uncertainty by batting your eyelashes up at him. “That part’s passed.” 

You can tell he doesn’t quite buy it, but he needles his arms under yours anyways, hands splaying over your bloated abdomen. “Fine. Tell me what to do, baby.” 

#steddie #steddie x reader #steddie x fem!reader #steddie x y/n #steddie x you #steddie x self insert #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie drabble #steddie imagine #steddie scenario #steddie blurb #steddie oneshot #steddie one shot #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fandom #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic

[little-annie]

Steddie Smut... Here you go I guess lol

---

On their way to yet another late night Hellfire meeting, Steve watches as the street lights flicker through the windows of the van, perfectly darting over Eddie's features, highlighting his amber eyes in a way that makes it impossible for him not to stare.

The steady hum of the radio vibrates through their bodies, Metallica pounding through the speakers in such an intensity, further charging the sexual energy that's long been boiling in Steve's veins throughout the day.

Today he's desperate. Absolutely, horribly, intensely, desperate. 

Every passing moment of the day drove Steve to crave his man more. Every teasing glance, every lingering touch. It all forced him to feel such immense need.

Every molecule of Eddie's body, calling to him in some way.

Innocently humming along to the music he loves, Eddie's completely unaware of the thoughts running through Steve's mind.

The thoughts of how he could satisfy Eddie in so many ways. The thoughts of how he could satisfy him right now as he drove to meet the guys for the last part of their current campaign. 

The tension between Steve's legs continued to grow against the cotton of his briefs, so many thoughts and images of what he could do trickling through his mind.

Assessing his surroundings, Steve contemplates one of his many thoughts. 

'Could I?'

'It's dark, no one would see…'

Reaching his hand over to Eddie's denim clad thigh, Steve lightly trails his fingers up and down the inside of his boyfriend's leg. Occasionally, 'accidently' venturing a little too far, forcing a gentle pulse of energy to settle in the man's core.

Glancing in his direction, Eddie quietly warns, "Steve." 

"Eddie," Steve retorts with a sly tone, eyes never straying from the road ahead.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Oh nothing." Steve shrugs, feigning innocence, once again trailing his finger up just a touch too far.

Gently moving his leg to the side, Eddie adjusts his position, eyes staying glued to the road in front of him, allowing Steve easier access to what he apparently wants most.

Moments pass while Steve's fingers continue to linger and tease the seam of Eddie's jeans, the quiet brush of calloused fingers over woven cotton following each passing movement.

As the song on the radio changes and Eddie's eyes take a second to glance at the man in the passenger seat, he challenges, "You wouldn't."

And oh how he's wrong. With a smirk and an ever wandering hand,  Steve responds with ease, "Wanna bet?"

Eddie's eyes grow wide and his heartbeat hastens as he realises Steve isn't just being a tease and he is in fact very, very serious.

Slowly trailing tanned fingers to Eddie's belt, Steve gives it a small tug, moving painfully slow in its undoing, quietly speaking, punctuating his last words with an exaggerated pout, "Oh Eds, honey, you have no idea what you've been doing to me today. You've just been such a tease, All.Day.Long" 

Finally unfastening the belt, Steve proceeds to focus his attention on the small brass button and zipper concealing Eddie's every growing excitement.

It's a desperate thing, the way he needs Eddie. All Steve needs is to touch him, feel his soft skin under his fingertips, hear him gasp his name. The need alone is eating away at him and unfortunately (maybe not so unfortunately) this is much a regular thing. Eddie's presence alone, driving Steve's sex drive up the wall and through the roof. 

Knuckles flushing white, Eddie's grip on the steering wheel tightens, bound leather creaking under his grasp, awaiting Steve's next move.

Dragging the zipper down, slowly unlatching the brass teeth, Steve can feel Eddie's hardened cock pulse with desire beneath his fingertips.

Trying to remain stoic,  Eddie attempts to control his breath and the heat flushing through his body, but it was to no avail. Every careful, gentle, slow move of Steve's fingers makes him weak, forcing his body to betray him as his cock twitches, his heart pounds and he lets out a muffled anticipatory groan.

With a devilish smirk plastered across his face, Steve proceeds. Gently moving his hand into blue plaid boxers, pulling Eddie's length from its confines, Steve watches the flickering street lights dance over the soft, smooth skin now held in his hand.

Working his jaw, gently pressing his hips up and into Steves hand, Eddie huffs under his breath, a hardly audible, "Fuck."

"What was that Eds?" Steve teases, "Did you say something?"

All Eddie can do is shake his head and attempt to keep his eyes focused on the road.

Gently gliding his fingers over Eddie's now exposed cock, Steve watches the metalhead's expression grow into something deeply desperate. Cheeks flushing red, jaw working and eyes darkening with want.

Moving his hand to grip the base of Eddie's dick, Steve holds it upright, quietly commanding, "Spit."

Giving Steve a side eyed glance, Eddie raises his eyebrow, questioning Steve's words.

Tightening his grip around the base of Eddie's length Steve repeats, "I said spit."

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Eddie darts his eyes between the road in front of him and his dimly lit manhood that stands tightly held in Steve's grasp.

Using his grip on the steering wheel to pull his upper body forward, he crooks his head down, letting a stream of spit trickle from his lips to his waiting dick below. 

Steve's heart pounds in his chest watching the moment slowly unravel in front of him. Hot spit running over his fingers Steve takes a deep breath before beginning to pump Eddie's cock. Soft, veiny skin gliding gently in his grasp, he slowly begins to build a rhythm.

"Fuck baby," Eddie huffs, tightening his grip on the steering wheel while Steve happily continues, moaning along with him in short desperate breaths to spur him on further.

"You like that or something Eds?" Steve teases, continuing his motions.

Biting his bottom lip, dumbly nodding, Eddie tries to suppress his cries as Steve quickly pushes him closer to the edge. Each perfectly placed stroke and twist of a wrist accompanied by a slight groan or gentle shiver, Steve knew Eddie was already so close.

Rapidly approaching their destination, Steve knew if he wanted to get Eddie off he'd have to be quick. 

Thankfully slowing to a stop at a red light another idea floats through Steve's head.

The red glow piercing through the front windshield, illuminating their flushed expressions, Steve pulls his hand from Eddie's body, soliciting a desperate groan from the man's lips as he feels every ounce of pleasurable touch disappear.

With a mischievous grin strewn across his face, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand, pulling it to his lips placing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before moving to unbuckle his own seatbelt, quickly shuffling in his seat, pulling himself closer and letting his lips messily attach to the side of Eddie's neck. Teasing Eddie's already flushed skin between teeth and tongue, humming with need against his pulse while tanned fingers return to his waiting length.

Van moving again, Steve's pulling his intense embrace from Eddie's pulse, shuffling in his seat once more, inching his way closer, allowing his mouth to fall perfectly into Eddie's lap.

Continuing to be a tease, Steve brushes his lips ever so slowly over Eddie's hot, angry, needy tip, being gifted with a quiet whimper in return. Opening his mouth, laying his tongue out flat, Steve licks a thick stripe over Eddie's cock head, savouring the taste of musk and need leaking in a pearly bead from his slit.

With one hand firmly gripping the wheel, Eddie's other falls to Steve's hair, carding through carmel coloured locks lovingly, gently encouraging his lover to proceed. 

A shuddered breath escapes Eddie's lips, his hips subtly canting upward pressing his length further into Steve's mouth until he takes it in full. Thick and long, his lips stretched around Eddie's girth, the vibration of his satisfaction humming over his tongue and through to Eddie's body.

With a breathy, shaky gasp, Eddie cusses, "Fuck, Sweetheart."

Hand held gently in his hair, Steve begins to bob his head, every inch of Eddie's excessive length invading his airways, cutting off his oxygen supply and forcing occasional gags to work their way up his throat. Swallowing around every intrusion, Steve can feel Eddie getting worked up. The shake of his thighs, the grip held in Steve's hair; he's getting close.

Repeating his motions Steve feels Eddie's grip tighten, the beautiful burn against his scalp spurring him on further as he continues with a renewed vigour. Eddie's head falls back into the seat, struggling to keep his eyes open, let alone on the road, and begins to cry out, letting the sound of Steve's name and muffled curses escape into the air. A quiet, breathy, 'Fuck,' and  'Just like that baby, keep going,' only make Steve's own excitement grow.

Tensing in Steve's grasp, Eddie's cock twitches against his tongue, one last breathy gasp of warning and a muttered, "S-Stevie, mmm-baby, 'm close," and Eddie lets out one final, long, breathy groan, vibrating through the van, nearly harmonising with the deep drone of the radio and Steve feels a sudden hot spurt of release shoot against the back of his throat, forcing him too to moan along with Eddie.

Just as the van slows to a stop, parking in the front lot of the school, Steve digs his nails into Eddie's thigh, revelling in the sharp hiss emitted from above. Letting Eddie's laboured cock spill from his lips, Steve pulls away, swallowing every last drop of release before reaching to take Eddie's jaw in his fingers. The feverish, desperate need of his own forcing his lips against Eddie's in a bruising embrace. The distant taste of salt and ecstasy trading between tongues.

With every glide of lips and slips of tongue, they gasp and moan into every breath. Steve's own need being a very prevalent thing in the tight confines of his jeans, waiting to be dealt with in the events sure to transpire later in the evening. Though, to his misfortune, he didn't consider the fact that they'd have to wait at least a few more hours until they were home, or at least back in the van.

Pulling himself back with Eddie's bottom lip still caught between his teeth, Steve slowly settles back into his chair, the sound of Eddie's lip snapping back into place a satisfying sound in the air. He can't help but blush, taking in the very shaken, climax drunk young man sitting in the driver seat.

Oh what a beautiful picture Eddie is, but he can only imagine the torture of continued teasing he'll go through before they got home.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Steve smiles, sly, tucking himself into the wasit band of his jeans, jumping out of the van with a smirk, "Told you I would."

---

I don't know 😝 okay. I just reworked some of my old Eddie x Fem Reader shit and got this 💁🏻‍♀️ so ta da I guess. Not up to my usual standards but 🤷‍♀️ oh frickin well.

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