depressed-freak13

[depressed-freak13]

I've been thinking about a rockstar Eddie thing that's just a little bit cracky but enraptures my imagination anyway.

At, like 25, all of Eddie's wildest dreams have come true way faster and way easier than he ever dreamed for himself as a high school super super senior and ultimate dropout. The band grinds for a year or two and comes out with a full album, and it's an instant success. A couple more years down the line, they're touring and making a lot of money and going to all the galas and events while maintaining their sense of self. Wayne semi-retires and gets a more relaxed part-time job close to where Eddie lives in Detroit.

Eddie is riding high and he decides, fuck it, all my wildest out of reach dreams come true, I'm going all in on the only thing I've always thought was less reachable than becoming a wold renound musician, finding love and settling down.

He goes from zero to a hundred, getting himself ready to find the love of his life. The CC boys and Wayne are just watching as Eddie starts dressing a little nicer and making him home a little more comfortable and putting a little extra into his shows and wandering around afterward. Eddie has never really dated, and so he's kind of just throwing it all out there to see if he can just...run into the love of his life, woo them, and show how serious he is by showing off his nice but comfortable home and non-rockstar capabilities. He's basically acting like some kind of bird.

Unfortunately, no one really takes him that seriously. Not the guys or anyone Eddie tries to woo. The whole wild rockstar thing gets in the way of how people see him. The band thinks this is another wild whim that will pass in a few months, maybe a couple of years. The people Eddie tries to get something started with take his overtures as either a ploy to get something (a lay, a date, someone to accompany him to an event) or see that he really is trying to fast track find somebody to love and jump both feet first into semi-domestic bliss with and gets scared off.

After a girl, who seemed receptive and fun and like someone Eddie could love, ghosts him Eddie finds himself with his head buried in his knees on a bench in the park near his house, wondering if this is truly the one goal he won't ever be able to reach. He feels someone sit next to him and usually, with his current mindset, he would take this as a sign and start chatting this person up, but he stays buried, hoping they will leave him to wallow in peace.

Instead, the guy asks if there's anything wrong. Eddie has never needed an invitation to rant and none of his friends are taking him seriously so he starts to ramble, not looking up, about his quest and how no one wants to give him a chance, and he just wants someone who wants to share a life with him.

Steve is immediately like, "Oh, that sounds really nice!"

No one has ever given that positive of a response right away to Eddie's idea so he shoots up, surprised at the reaction. The guy next to him is stupidly handsome, with perfect hair and a pretty smile and the sweetest moles Eddie has ever seen. He just stares with big, wet eyes as the man extends a hand.

"Nice to meet you, my name is Steve. I'd be down to give it a shot, show me what you got."

Eddie leaps out of his seat, keeping Steve's hand in his own as he gets down on his knees to kiss his hand like a knight. Steve laughs and Eddie knows this is it, this is his chance and he's grabbing it with both hands.

Eddie has been planning a hundred-and-one perfect dates since he began this scheme and he pulls out half of them in one day for Steve. They go to his favorite cafe with an outside patio, meander through one of Detroit's many car shows, go roller skating, let Steve pick the dinner spot, and walk through the nicest part in the neighborhood, eating ice cream cones with one scoop picked by each of them.

By the end of the night, Eddie is sure that he's found what he's looking for in Steve, but after so many failures, he's scared to ask if Steve feels the same. They walk hand in hand toward Steve's place, the night coming to a natural end. When they reach his door, Steve stops and asks why Eddie went to quiet.

Eddie admits that he's afraid to let this slip through his finders, that he doesn't want to say goodbye. Steve smiles and tells him he doesn't have to, tells him to take him home.

Eddie lets hope and love bloom in his chest and kisses the back of Steve's hand again, and calls them a ride to his house. They lead against each other, eyes closed, wiped out from their whirlwind day as the city passes them by. When they get in, Steve settles in easily, remarking on the plush-looking couch and vintage-style kitchen.

They don't have sex that night, don't even kiss, they just get settled for bed and curl up into each other. Eddie cracks the window to let in a breeze, and they drift off easily with smiles on their faces.

[depressed-freak13]

I had the funny thought of a soulmate au in which you can hear your soulmate’s thoughts specifically when they think about you, so you what their thoughts regarding you and whatnot, very cute could be very funny.

But I imagine Steddie still in high school. Steve not really thinking about Eddie in particular besides the occasional passing “what is he doing on that table”, “I wonder if he is selling after school today” and once a “that’s a cool jacket” which leaves Eddie on a high for the rest of the week.

Steve in the other hand keeps hearing the most raunchiest, horny, things imaginable sitting in class like “this girl wants to do what to my ass???”

[depressed-freak13]

nobody is coming to save you. get up

[depressed-freak13]

Steve that didn't graduate (brain damage is no fucking joke) and instead of doing senior year again he decides to get a GED but because he's a chronic under sharer and technically it is knowledgeable that can be found no one actually knows until post vecna Eddie makes some comment along the lines of Steve only graduating because Golden boy jock privilege even though he missed more days than Eddie and Steve just confusedly tells him that he didn't graduate

[depressed-freak13]

blowjob? more like nojob! #unemployed

[depressed-freak13]

Watch your balls, boy!

Written for the May 2025 pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: School's out for summer

Rated: T

Tags: Summer jobs; Country club; Tennis; Eddie has a crush on Steve; Tommy Hagan being an asshole; Steve Harrington is a little shit

“Hey, ball boy! Don’t just stand there, go get it!” 

Eddie jerks out of his heat-induced daze and jogs after the ball that has rolled off to the remotest corner of the tennis court. Another bead of sweat escapes from under his hat and trickles down his burnt neck. 

“I got it,” says a voice, and before he can do anything, he is treated to the vision of a perfectly round, perfectly firm ass in tight tennis shorts wiggling merrily in the hot summer air as its owner bends at the hip. “Really, Tommy. You don’t need to have the staff do every little thing for you. What is he, your dog?”

Eddie bites back a snide remark and retreats into what little shade the wire fence provides. Great, not only is he about to die from heat stroke, now they’re adding unnecessary horniness and humiliation into the mix.

The ad for the summer job at the country club promised exciting tasks and plenty of opportunities to learn lessons for life. So far, Eddie has learned three things. 

One: White is not his color - especially not if paired with the violent lobster red that his skin turns after twenty minutes in the sun. 

Two: Baseball hats make his face look two inches too short - but the stupid thing is part of the uniform, so he hasn’t dared take it off.

And three: Steve Harrington in tennis gear will haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. 

He didn't even know the Harringtons were club members, or he would’ve thought twice about applying. After all, who in their right mind wants to spend their summer melting into a sweaty puddle while their crush prances around them like a bronze-skinned, honey-haired, painfully straight Adonis with a tennis racket? Harrington probably doesn't even know his name - the chances of anything coming out of this are as thin as Eddie’s flimsy uniform shirt. 

On the other side of the net, Tommy Hagan sneers. 

“It’s what he’s getting paid for, isn’t it?” he grumbles. “Maybe they should get a dog instead. It would only have advantages, don’t you think? Cuter, better at following instructions, probably smarter.”

His eyes flick over to Eddie, taking in the way his fingers curl, and his mouth curls into a cruel smile.

Hagan, of course, recognized him the second he saw him. He probably has every single face from school committed to memory - all neatly categorized into those above him, so that he can grovel and bow to them, and the lowly scum at the bottom of the ladder, so that he never misses an opportunity to kick at them. 

“Tommy, come on!” Harrington frowns unhappily, letting the ball bounce off the asphalt and twirling his racket. He, too, is sweating, but while Eddie is a sopping, miserable mess with a bird’s nest of wet bangs plastered to his forehead, he manages to make it look sexy, somehow. “I’d like to finish this match some time today, I still wanna hit the pool.” 

But Hagan is far from done. 

“Say, ball boy,” he drawls. “What does it feel like, being so dumb that a dog could do your job? What do they even pay you, huh?” 

Eddie flexes his hands and stares off into the middle distance, wishing he could ram his fist into Hagan’s stupid, arrogant face. 

“Hey, shitface, I am talking to you,” Hagan says, waving his racket in the air and scowling when Eddie doesn’t react. “Nevermind, whatever it is, it’s too much. Unless they pay you in dog treats, that would be- oooooow, motherfaaaaaaargh.” 

Eddie blinks, trying to understand what just happened. All he knows is that, one second ago, Hagan was standing there and jeering at him, and now he’s doubled over, howling in pain and clutching the crotch of his tennis shorts. 

It probably has a lot to do with the ball that just came zipping over the net and is now rolling away on the asphalt.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Hagan whimpers, looking up with accusing, teary eyes as Harrinton comes running. His freckled face has gone deadly pale and his voice is about half and octave higher. It’s almost enough to make Eddie cringe in sympathy, but only almost. 

“I’m sorry,” Harrington gushes. “I thought you were ready to continue.” 

“In what world did I look like I was ready?” Hagan snaps, then gasps again as another wave of pain ripples through him. “Oh fuck, you ruined me.” 

Harrington claps his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Just go back to the club house and put some ice on it, I’ll bring the bags.” 

Eddie watches Hagan hobble away, still bent over and cursing under his breath, while Harrington packs up their gear. He just hopes the guy didn’t have any family plans with his bitchy little girlfriend. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Harrington says, walking up with two bags slung over his shoulder, and Eddie realizes a bit belatedly that he must’ve said that out loud. “I didn’t ruin him. Not in the way he’d like me to, that is. At least it’ll be a few days before he bugs anyone about balls again.” 

Eddie whirls, mouth wide open. He doesn’t get to say anything, though, because Harrington has just pulled something from his bag and pressed it into his hand. It’s a bottle of sunscreen. 

“This is my favorite brand, you should give it a try,” he says, gesturing at Eddie’s burned nose. And then, more quietly, “And don’t listen to him. You’re at least as cute as a dog. See you around, Eddie.” 

Eddie keeps standing in the middle of the court, mouth agape and staring into nothing, long after he has disappeared into the club house. It’s only when the next couple of players arrive and scare him out of his stupor that he realizes Harrington called him by his name. 

More holiday drabbles

[depressed-freak13]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Overheated

Pop-Up Prompt: School's Out For Summer | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Recreational Weed Use, Language | Tags: Set Post S2, Car Trouble, Crossing Paths, Confident Bisexual Steve Harrington, Jim Hopper is Done With These Two Kids

Eddie scurries down the packed hallway, knocking shoulders with anyone that dares to get in his way. He slams into the push handles of both of the glass double doors, shoving them wide open. The sun is bright, blinding him, but he doesn't give a fuck.

School's out for summer.

School's out forever.

Eddie can't wait to get out of this place. He's pretty sure he failed his last final, but he's not coming back for a third senior year. No fucking way. He's done forever, graduated or not.

He runs across the parking lot, his wallet chain banging into his thigh. Swinging open the van door, throwing his backpack into the passenger seat with a thud.

Firing up the engine of the van, he puts the pedal to the metal and gets the fuck out of Dodge. 

There's a box of tapes next to his seat, and he's fiddling around. Looking for the Alice Cooper tape he's pretty sure he has. Somewhere. Joint hanging from his lip. Attempting to pull another hit, unsuccessfully trying to keep it lit while he fucks around.

Being done with school is something to fucking celebrate.

When he looks up, he's rounding the curve of the highway, and right next to the road, barely off the pavement and in a really dumb spot, is Steve Harrington.

Eddie taps the brakes, slowing. 

Harrington has the hood up, and by the look of the steam billowing from underneath, that expensive-ass car has overheated. Rich kids really are just like them, it turns out.

And Eddie shifts his foot, aiming for the gas pedal. Planning to press back down on it. Harrington isn't his problem. 

But the van overheats all the time. And Steve's got a gallon jug of water in his hand. He really shouldn't do that.

Eddie honks his horn, and Steve looks up. 

Fuck it.

Eddie pulls over, dropping the joint in the ashtray, and backs up until he's closer to where Steve's parked.

"Don't do that, dumbass, you'll crack the block!" Eddie shouts, hopping out of the van. Both feet hitting the grass of the ditch. "You need coolant."

"I don't have coolant," Harrington says.

Eddie swings open the back of the van, and starts rummaging. Steve leans over his shoulder, he can feel the heat of him, far too close. 

When he gets his hand on the jug, Eddie holds it up, victorious. Spinning around, making Steve take a step back.

"How much is it worth to you?" Eddie asks, grinning with all his teeth.

Harrington puts his hands on his hips, and the look on his face is so goddamn bitchy. Eddie's never seen anything like it on another dude. It's uniquely Harrington, somehow.

"Munson," he says, but reaches for his back pocket, for his wallet.

Eddie laughs. 

"Your car is too hot right now, anyway. You need to let it sit."

And Harrington looks dejected. 

"Just for fifteen minutes or so. Not forever," Eddie adds.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

Eddie puts the jug down by the front of Steve's car, shoulder bumping Steve's on the way down on purpose.

"You smell like weed," Steve says, and Eddie barks out a laugh.

"No shit. I was celebrating the end of this torture we've called high school until I saw your dumb ass getting ready to do dumb shit."

Steve laughs, and it's genuine. Eddie's stomach clenches against his will. 

"Got enough to share while we wait?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods even if he knows he should fuck right off and leave Harrington's ass here on the side of the road alone.

But he opens his arm, gesturing towards the van, even against his best judgment.

Steve Harrington's tongue is in his mouth, and Eddie's so fucking hard. His body is traitorous. Steve's hand is in his hair, and—

"Harrington! You in there?" 

Eddie jerks back so fast, so hard, at the banging on the back of the van, that he whacks his head. He is so fucked.

"Is that Chief Hopper?" Eddie asks, but Steve's already crawling through the van, swinging open the side door.

"Hop!" Steve yells, "It overheated again."

Eddie straightens his clothes, his hair, and climbs out behind Steve.

Jim Hopper is bent over Steve's hood, pouring in the coolant. Checking the other fluids, and Eddie wonders if he should run while he has the goddamn chance.

"I told you to get it into the shop," Hopper says, and Steve is making excuses. Like a kid.

They've got a weird dynamic. 

Hopper straightens up, "Start it for me."

Steve hurries around to the driver's door, and climbs in, doing just that. 

Hopper slams the hood closed, gives him a thumbs up, and Eddie hears Steve whoop with delight.

Eddie is just standing there like an idiot. He should have gotten out of here. But no, he's standing around like a fucking fool just because he kind of wants Steve Harrington to kiss him again.

Chief Hopper turns and looks at Eddie, "You smell like marijuana."

"Uh, that was a skunk," Eddie lies.

Hopper rolls his eyes, and takes a menacing step closer, "I know better. You're lucky I'm not on duty, kid."

Eddie nods, swallowing. 

Hopper walks over to Steve's driver's door, leaning down, "Have Munson follow you home and park it until you get it into a mechanic. Got it, Harrington?"

Steve nods.

And then Hopper stomps off, back to his truck, slamming the door.

Eddie gets back in the van, and he wasn't asked, just told indirectly, but he follows Steve back to his house. He pulls in the driveway behind him, rolling down his window.

"It get hot again?" Eddie asks.

Steve grins, shaking his head as he jogs over, smoothly hopping up on the running board of the van, sticking his head through the window, pulling himself close to Eddie's face.

"No. But I did."

Then he grins, like a cocky asshole. 

Eddie suddenly gets why girls always fawned, as Steve kisses him again.

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

Note: I don't think Eddie's van actually has a running board. Please accept the vision for what it is, lol.

[depressed-freak13]

Mr. Pascal, I’m kindly asking you to let us BREATHE

[depressed-freak13]

Short Days, Long Nights: One Shot

Series Masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E

A/N: I missed them, so here you go ❤ one million bajillion thanks to @bageldaddy for looking this over and for typing the words "do a crux check, I think it's here like five times". She was right, as she often is 😌

--

The brothers ride in silence, snow crunching under the hooves of their horses. Everything covered in a fresh blanket of white, they leave fresh tracks behind them as they make their way towards the gates. 

“You gonna tell me what your problem is?”

Joel glowers, his grip tightening on the reins. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Tommy smirks, a white cloud of heat puffing from his nose. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks, but he says nothing. He shifts in the saddle, his thighs squeezing to spur his horse on faster.

It’s fuckin’ cold, and his knees ache. 

“I think you scared ‘em,” Tommy says, flicking his chin towards the two riders behind them. The boys – new to patrol – give them ample space, their skinny frames swathed in coats in their seat in the saddle. “Just about tore their heads off every time they made a mistake.”

“They shouldn’t be makin’ em,” Joel replies easy. 

Tommy laughs. “Like you never made a mistake in your life.”

Joel shakes his head, squinting at the brightness of the fresh snow. Each night has brought a fresh few inches, and he wonders if the kids have been outside in it. He pictures them making snow men, building forts. The snowball fight they had last week with the neighbor kids comes to mind, and a warmth fills up inside of him. Snow wasn’t a thing for him when he was growing up – not in Texas – and he’s glad they get to experience it. 

Even if it’s cold as shit. 

He pictures the front window of the house, the warm glow it would cast across the snow as darkness falls. You in the kitchen, maybe, and the constant movement of the kids. The image invites him even from beyond the gates, and sighs. 

Tommy continues to poke, in the way that only little brothers can. 

“Oh, I get it. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Joel frowns. “Since what?”

“Since you got some alone time. With your wife.”

Tommy’s eyes are bright with teasing, and Joel would normally rise to the occasion – but he doesn’t have it in him. Instead he gives his little brother a sidelong glance. 

Tommy chuckles. “I knew it.” 

“Hard with all the kids in the house all the time,” Joel grumbles. “Always underfoot, never giving us a moment’s peace.”

“Seems like every time you get a moment’s peace, you end up with another kid, brother. Maybe it’s a good thing.”

Joel shakes his head again, the edge of his mouth lifting for the first time in days. 

“It does, doesn’t it,” he says, and Tommy laughs. 

“Let me take those little monsters for you,” he offers. “Maria’s been wanting to see them anyhow, and then maybe you won’t walk around anymore lookin’ like you wanna fight anyone who steps in your path.”

Joel scoffs, though he doesn’t argue. 

The gates of the settlement come into view, the guard towers built along the top capped with mounds of snow. He pictures the bustle of people that will appear when the gates open – the mess hall, the stables, the familiar facade of the town he’s come to recognize as home. And somewhere, in all that, you.

His mind strays to the image of your face: your beautiful, soft smile, the warmth of your body that he’s missed at night. Weighted heat builds low in his hips, and he begins to thicken underneath his fly. 

“Goddamnit,” he mutters. 

It really has been too fucking long. 

“Tonight,” he says to Tommy, giving him a look. “Can you take ‘em tonight?”

Tommy grins.

–

Joel needs to see the little monsters first. 

He needs to listen to June’s endless chatter as she curls up next to him on the couch, wants to see Hank play with his trucks on the carpet, needs the weight of Dolly sleeping body on his chest. His lips brush her downy curls, and he relaxes into the cushions of the couch, surrounded by his children. 

“Yea, darlin’” to June, and “tell me more, bud” to Hank and murmurs of “hey, sleepy girl” to Dolly. 

His head tips back against the couch, his eyes closing for a second. 

“You gonna make it, old man?” you tease, tucking a sleeper into the backpack in front of you. A teddy next, a blanket following it. 

He turns his head to look at you, and his eyes slip down your body and back up again. He’s been half hard since the second he pressed a fleeting kiss to your mouth in greeting when he walked in the door.

“I’ll show you old man once these kids leave.”

Your movement halts for a split second, and the corner of his lips tip up as you start to pack faster.

–

You’re still tidying the kitchen when he gets back from Tommy’s. 

“I thought I would have more time,” you frown, scooping up the dinner plates to set them in the sink. He stands at your back, his hands curling around your hips to pull you close. His mouth brushes along the column of your neck, his beard tickling your skin. “I wanted to be upstairs, waiting for you. Assuming you’re still up for–”

He turns you, cutting off your sentence with the press of his mouth. 

It’s been so fucking long. So long since you’ve really kissed him, too long since you felt his strong grip, too long since you’ve done anything more than a peck here and there between the daily chaos of life. Patrol, the green house, your duties around town, the kids – too many nights have gone by with you falling asleep on the couch while he picks away at his guitar, or collapsing into bed together the second the kids turn in. 

You’ve missed him, and you can tell by the way he kisses you, he’s missed you as well. 

His deep kiss lingers until he breaks it, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Dance with me, honey.”

A smile curls at the edge of your lips. “There isn’t any music.” 

“Never stopped you before,” he replies, kissing the corner of your mouth, guiding your arms to wrap around his neck. 

Every time he mentions your time at the cabin, a sweet ache blooms in your chest. A time when it was just the two of you, nothing to exist on but the sustenance found in each other. A private, tender time, full of intimacy and closeness, of quiet peace in a world filled with anything but. It’s not like you miss it compared to the safety of Jackson, but…sometimes you do. 

You’re reminded of it in the mornings, with his warmth curled along your spine, his nose tucked into the nape of your neck. 

You’re reminded of it when you work alone in the garden, the kids down for their naps. 

And you’re reminded of it now, as he turns the two of you slowly in a room with no music. 

Drawing him in, you bring his mouth to yours. You lean into his sturdiness and breathe him in, your fingers slipping into the curls at the nape of his neck, and he sighs, melting under your touch. 

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss and his hands cup your cheeks, his fingertips brushing against the curve of your jaw. Shuffling his feet forward, he guides you towards the counter until the edge of it presses into the small of your back. His mouth moves with more intent, and the toe of his boot nudges your feet apart, making room for himself between your thighs. 

“Upstairs?” you mumble against his full mouth, and he shakes his head. 

“Right here.”

The husk in his voice makes your eyes flutter shut, an instant liquid heat pooling in the cradle of your hips. It intensifies when his hand takes your own and he slides it down his torso, your fingers brushing over his belt buckle. Lower still, and he wraps your fingers around the heft of his cock, clearly outlined through his jeans. 

His hips buck forward into your touch, and a soft moan breaks free of your throat. 

“You really did need it bad, huh?” you tease, a breathless thing dripping with your own want. 

“So bad, honey. So bad.”

His fingers work the button of your pants open, and you start doing the same to his belt buckle until he swats your hands away, and starts tugging at your pants and underwear. Kneeling, he drags them over the curve of your ass and down your legs, his mouth laving hot kisses along the front of your thighs as he helps you step out of the fabric. 

“Joel, your knees. Baby, get off the floor.”

He pays you no mind, his hands forcing you up onto the counter. Spreading your thighs, he shifts closer until his mouth hovers right over where you need him the most: your gleaming, soaked center. 

“Fuck my knees,’ he groans, leaning in for a kiss. 

Your head tips back against the cabinet with a small thud, your fingers pushing through his hair. You flex your hold, the strands silky underneath the palm of your hand, and he lets out a muffled groan into your center, smearing his tongue flat up the center. He slides it over the pearl of your clit, circling the bud a few times as his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs. He laps at your clit, taps it with the tip of his tongue, slides his tongue around and then over it, over it, over it and when you start to rock your hips against his mouth, he latches onto it with a gentle suck. 

“Oh God,” you breathe, your hooded gaze fixed on the crown of his dark curls. His brow furrows in concentration and pleasure, his whiskers catching the delicate skin on your inner thighs and when he presses himself even closer to bury the bottom half of his face, you arch your hips up to meet him. His hand slides up your side in a weighty drag and palms your breast in a full handed hold, giving it a squeeze as he sucks harder. Focusing on the pebbled peak he feels underneath your shirt, his thumb drags over the bud and you feel it between your legs, in time with the steady licks of his tongue. 

Your thighs start to tremble against his cheeks, and his hand curls around the bottom of your knee, pushing your leg up to rest your heel on the counter. The position spreads you wide open for him, something he takes advantage of to slip two thick fingers into your soaked core. They fit in snug to the knuckle; your other leg crooked over his shoulder with a tense hold as he starts to stroke a spot deep inside. His full touch tucks tight against your walls, the pressure paired with the wet glide of his tongue tips you over the edge of your release, your moan joining the sound of his. 

His knees crack when he stands, and his lips slide against yours. His mustache and chin are damp with you, your taste in his kiss and you deepen it, winding your legs around the back of his thighs to pull him closer. He palms your bare ass, grinding his denim covered crotch against your slick curls. His movements get faster, more desperate, and then he pulls back, his gaze dropping down to watch as you roll your hips into his. 

“If you don’t stop, honey, I’m gonna fuck you right here on this counter.”

His words are a low threat, that rumbles from his chest, his eyes never leaving the crux of your thighs. 

“Do it.” 

Your own gaze is fixed on the bulge behind his fly; your cunt an empty, needy thing. You know just how well he fits, just how good it feels when he slides inside. Snug and thick and filling and your eyes close, a frown pulling at your delicate features. 

“Please.”

“If I start here, I won’t be able to stop. I wanna lay you out.” He leans forward, crowding you against the cabinets. “I wanna fuck you too hard for this counter top. I want you too much.”

The words make your stomach drop with need, and you grab his face to pull him in for a frantic, consuming kiss before pushing him back so you can slide off the counter. You can feel him right on your heels as you race up the stairs, a laugh bursting from you when he slaps your ass on the way up. He rushes you through the bedroom door, his hands already grabbing at your remaining clothes. 

“Come on, mama. Take that shirt off for me.”

“You first,” you reply, tugging at his blue button down. The snaps pop open in a straight line down his chest, and he tugs it off, flinging it onto the floor. You strip with him: first your top, then your bra. Sliding onto the bed naked, you watch him peel his jeans down his legs. His briefs go next, and your thighs part to make room for him as he crawls on the bed to join you. 

Your bodies are a tangle of limbs lying sideways across the bed, his mouth presses against yours the same time his hand dives down to line himself up. The crown of his cock slips right in, and his hips drive forward, forcing you open around him. 

“Joel,” you moan, your eyes closing tight. 

In the cabin, sunlight pouring through the window across your writhing body, his shoulders between your thighs and his face buried at the crux. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good. So good,” he breathes, rocking his hips against yours. 

In the woods, the bark of a tree rhythmically scraping against your back, the hot pant of his breath across your skin. 

His low groans blend with your softer, higher pitch ones as your fingers dig into the meat of his ass to force him deeper. 

Clothing scattered on the bank; shadows scattered across the rounds of your bare shoulders as you ride him, taking him inside you again, and again. 

Heady need blooms behind your belly button, your toes curling as your heels dig into the back of his thighs, and every rock of his hips against yours is a filling stroke, a smooth slide forward and back. Whole is what you feel – pressed underneath the weight of his body, the heat of his skin flush with yours, his cock filling every last open inch that belongs to him. 

Threading your fingers through the gray at his temple, the open, pleading expression on your face tells him everything he needs to know. 

“You gonna come again, honey?”

You nod frantically, the roll of your hips picking up pace. Your nipples tighten against his chest, the hair there scraping each sensitive peak. He braces himself above you, his fists curling into the bedding as he fucks you harder, deeper. 

A shudder slips through his solid frame as he watches you come underneath him, and his hips stutter, a deep, reluctant groan rumbling from his chest as he pulls out. Sitting back on his heels, his fist works his cock with an audible, slick pump. 

“Where do you want it this time?”

It’s a question he asks now. Jackson has birth control methods, but with scarce supplies, they aren’t something you can always get your hands on. Condoms are more readily available, but you hate the thought of a barrier between the two of you. 

Instead, you push your breasts together in a silent invitation, and shift closer to him, positioning his cock right above your chest. The view of his broad chest and strong shoulders has you biting your lip, his arm flexing as he pumps his thick cock filling your vision and your thighs squeeze shut, even though you are more than satisfied. 

“Play with ‘em, honey,” he begs, his deep voice straining. 

You do, and with one of his hands wrapped around his cock and the other gripped white around the top of the headboard, he comes in spurts across your chest. You keep playing, smearing the milky pools across the tops of your breasts, circling the tight buds of your nipples until they are glistening peaks as he works every last drop out of his cock, and sated, his frame finally relaxes. 

“Jesus,” he sighs, dropping down on the bed to lay next to you. 

You roll onto your side, your skin damp with his release. His pulse is a steady drum underneath his skin, his cheeks are flush with heat, and the gray along the curve of his jaw stands out even more in the dim lighting of the bedroom. He’s older now, the physical signs more visible. Lines that surround his eyes, more gray threaded throughout his hair — but his hunger is the same. Still the same needy, firm grip love that you’re used to; his calloused hands sliding over your skin. Your gaze slips down his strong profile, lingering on his parted lips and you shift closer to him, tucking yourself closer.

He cracks an eye open to look at you, a dimple appearing in his cheek when he grins. Rolling onto his side, he faces you, slinging the weight of his arm over your waist. 

Your fingers brush along his collarbone, and for the first time in days, you feel yourself fully relax. 

You know patrol is part of the many pieces keeping this community together, but you’ll never get used to being separated, not fully. You’re half of a whole when he’s gone; half of your heart venturing out into the dangerous world. You’re tense from the second he heads out to the stables until the moment you see him through the front door. 

With him finally home, you breathe him in, curling closer. Right where you belong. 

His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, and you smile. 

“You’re so beautiful, honey.” His nose skims along yours, his lips brushing over your cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. It’s hard to sleep without you here.”

The kiss he gives you is slower this time, more lush. His mouth molds against yours, savoring your familiar taste and you swallow his soft groan down, holding him close. He starts to fade, his kisses slowing into lingering, soft presses. 

Rain sliding against the window, flashes of lightning illuminating his profile. 

His mouth stops, his eyes fluttering shut. He sleeps the way you never saw him sleep on the trail, the way he was never afforded before the cabin either. The way he probably couldn’t while on patrol, either. 

A book resting open and face down on his chest, his breathing steady and deep. 

A bone-deep sleep, sated and safe. 

Still, when your thumb skates across his full bottom lip, his mouth purses – an unconscious kiss, even from the depths of his slumber. His hand flexes, smoothing over your skin. 

Reaching for the light, you click it off, and pull the quilt over the two of you. 

Another worn quilt, another bedroom. 

Tucking your face into the space between his chin and chest, you close your eyes.

[depressed-freak13]

‘Steve knew he was into guys for a while before Robin found out’

‘Robin knew Steve was into guys before he did and had to bite her tongue from outing him to himself’

No

They both realized as they were sitting at a bar they’ve never been to before and saw the same guy from across the room and simultaneously thought

‘Steve’s/I’m so into that guy’

Robin: Really? And you say I have bad taste. That guy is literally wearing cowboy boots

Steve: You went out with a girl wearing cowboy boots last week

Robin: She was a highly accomplished rodeo star so that is completely different from this guy.

Steve: For all you know he could also be a highly accomplished rodeo star

Robin: Plus, he has a Freddy Mercury mustache

Steve: I know, right?

Robin: You disgust me…so are you going to ask him out or not?

Steve: I don’t know. How can we know that he’s even into guys?

Robin: I’ve been meaning to say something, but I think this might be a gay bar.

Steve: So all those guys who’ve been complimenting my hair all night have actually been flirting with me?

Robin: Fraid so

Steve: King Steve’s still got it

Robin: I am begging you, for the sake of my sanity and our friendship, to never call yourself ‘King Steve’ again.

Steve: Fine, fine. So, you think I should go over and ask out Cowboy Freddy Mercury?

Robin: The one who’s definitely not a highly accomplished rodeo star and has probably never set foot on a farm his whole life? Yes, go ask him out and let me have five minutes of peace and quiet.

Steve: Alright, I’ll be right back. And also, how weird is it that I’m apparently into guys?

Robin: So weird. But it also makes sense. There was always this weird vibe between you and some of your high school cronies.

Steve: We’re talking about that later. Right now, how do I look?

[depressed-freak13]

THE LAST OF US — 01 x 03, “Long, Long Time”

[depressed-freak13]

Eddie does believe Dustin when he says that he knows Steve. He’s sure the kid ran into him at Wheeler’s house when Steve was dating his sister.

He doesn’t believe that they’re friends. He believes even less that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington thinks of Dustin like ‘a brother.’

But then one day, he’s roaming the racks at the music shop looking for any new heavy metal albums. Dustin’s not even there. Eddie is talking to Jeff when he mentions that Henderson said something about a new pet.

“A pet?” Steve asks, appearing out of nowhere like he’d been summoned. “Dustin Henderson said he got a new pet? Dustin? Loud kid with curly hair? That Dustin?”

“Um…?”

“Does he still have his old pet?” Steve asks. “Tews is still alive?”

“You know the name of his cat?”

“Jesus,” Steve‘s not even talking to him anymore. He calls over to a girl clearly being interviewed by the manager, “Hey, Robin! I got to go. Dustin’s tryin’ to start the apocalypse again. Can you do my interview for me?”

“Yeah,” She calls back. “No problem!”

Steve turns back to Eddie with his big eyes and intense eye contact, covers his hand with one of his for the briefest of seconds and says, “Thank you.”

Then he’s gone, and Eddie’s heart is pounding, and he’s just… “All that because Dustin got another cat?”

[depressed-freak13]

Eddie who develops some sort of fainting problem post demobats that will comedically announce when he's about to pass out with a simple "goodbye" "down I go" or "see you in a bit" before crumpling

Steve who has brain damage induced seizures that sings a little jingle mid aura as he's laying down

[depressed-freak13]

Another story of people not knowing Steve is bisexual.

Since he asked Eddie to be his boyfriend at a party game night, Eddie took it as a joke and accepted. He made a grand ordeal of it too, jumping on the table and dramatic gestures.

He even declared his true love shall catch him and fell off the table and fell off into Steve who struggled, but did manage to catch him. If Steve fell on the floor doing it, it’s nobody’s business.

Steve is like “omg my first boyfriend!” And since Robin was there, he assumes she knows.

Little does poor Steve know, everyone thought he was joking. Except El because she’s El and Will.

El and Will are both bewildered as to why the boys weren’t being nosy like they expected them too. But, they don’t figure out that nobody else knows either because everyone else is like “Yea, Steve and Eddie are totally Dating”.

El and Will begin to pester Steve because they love him and he’s the first queer relationship they’ve seen. It’s not like anyone else will tell them anything.

Steve absolutely regales them with every date (which Eddie thought were just hang outs) and what a great choice it was to ask Eddie out.

Steve and Eddie get high together one night and Eddie looks so relaxed and cute that he just has to kiss him.

So he does and, of course since Eddie is his boyfriend, Eddie kisses back. They make out that night and curl up together and then fall asleep.

When Steve wakes up, the bed is empty and cold where Eddie was.

He gets up, assuming Eddie just left to get food, but Eddie is pacing in the kitchen.

“Hey, Teddy, What’s wrong?” Steve tries to get close and hug him, but Eddie shrugs him off.

“I can’t do this with you right now. I need some time to think and I think you should leave. I need a break from you.” Eddie tugs at his hair, not nervous, but stressed.

Steve hears ‘break’ and almost starts crying. He sniffles, eyes getting watery, and Steve just lets out a cracked “okay.” Before grabbing his stuff and bolting out of the house.

By the time he gets in the car, he’s in full out tears.

It’s like Nancy all over again! He just knows that Eddie means to break up with him, nobody goes on a ‘break’ other than to soft launch the ‘break up’.

He thought he was such a good boyfriend to Eddie, he went to all his shows, he brought him home cooked meals, and made sure he knew Steve appreciated him. Steve had started listening to metal for him despite his crushing migraines.

Steve barely makes it home through the warping effect of the tears in his eyes.

He calls out of work for the week to mope because Eddie was his first boyfriend and he really saw a future with him.

On the second day, Will overhears Eddie talking about Steve to Robin and how he “couldn’t be around him.” Will immediately puts together Steve’s absence and sudden ‘flu’.

Will runs back to El and they hop on Will’s bike and go to Steve’s.

When they get there, Steve is still red eyed and teary. His pitiful two month relationship was over and he had been crying over losing Eddie.

Will and El immediately harass him into telling them what happened over some ice cream they extracted from the freezer. Steve tactfully leaves out the weed detail, but otherwise sticks to the story.

El is incredibly mad by the end. Stuff has started levitating half an inch and she questions Steve “why would he do that?”

Steve can’t hold it in anymore and just starts crying again.

“I don’t know.” He croaks out.

Will is patting Steve’s back and El is probably planning a murder.

By the time Steve has calmed down, his phone is ringing and it’s the party looking for El and Will. He offers to drive them back, but the kids insist they bike back.

When El comes in, it is evident she has only gotten more enraged over the entire drive home. The second her eyes fall on Eddie, everything starts shaking angrily.

Eddie on the other hand, does not know El very well and is borderline pissing himself at her rage.

Instead of the flying plates and psychic violence, El starts to cry.

“Why would you do that?” El cries out, tears filling her eyes. She begins to sob and Eddie still has no idea what she’s talking about.

“What do you mean?” Eddie looks halfway between trying to calm her and bolting the other direction.

“Why would you do that to Steve? He really likes you!” Her voice cracks and gets strained at some points, it nearly sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

Eddie is completely not ready to discuss his queer make-out sesh with a child in front of the entire party. Luckily, the Wheeler parents were out and not there to hear it.

“He’s your boyfriend! Why would you break up with him like that?” Eddie lets out a soft understanding laugh.

“El, me and Steve aren’t actually dating, that’s just a joke.” Eddie says soothingly.

“He asked you out in-front of everyone! I was there!” El yelled at Eddie, Will finally beginning to approach his angry sister.

“That was a joke!” Eddie laughs out.

“Did Steve know that?” Will finally pipes up and Eddie’s blood goes cold.

“O-of course, he did!” Eddie feebly attempts to justify. His voice was stringy in a way that showed Eddie didn’t believe himself.

Will just shakes his head at Eddie with sad eyes.

“He thinks you guys have been dating for the past 2 months. El and I thought you were dating for the past two months.” Will says slowly, punctuating his every word carefully.

“That’s why he stopped dating, isn’t it?” Robin pipes up, sounding a little hollow at her failure to notice.

Nobody answers her.

Pt 2 if you ask nicely, or meanly I don’t really care.

[depressed-freak13]

Lover's Lake

In bigoted '80s Hawkins, where Omegas are constantly harassed, freshly presented Steve 'the King' Harrington begrudgingly chooses to wear scent blockers all the time to hide his real secondary gender and pass as a Beta.

It works just fine for him. Sure, there's the con of having to ignore your instincts and stay away from Alphas, deal with the heats all alone – and it sucks, doesn't matter how you put it, it fucking sucks – but it's a trade-off worth making if it means staying safe.

Then, on a Saturday, March 22, 1986, Steve goes with Robin, Max and Dustin on a quest to find a potential murderer and ends up at Rick Lipton’s boat house near Lover's Lake, with a broken bottle threateningly pointed at his throat by an Alpha – his Alpha – big brown eyes glaring at him and fangs bared and petrichor scent filling his nose and his heart with mate.

In bigoted '80s Hawkins, where even being slightly off-track can brand you forever as an outcast, Eddie 'the Freak' Munson choses to fight back with metal and weed, long wild hair and ghastly tattoos.

It's a big middle-finger to the system. Yeah, there's the con of being avoided like plague by any Omega, all of them too scared to go beyond his mean look and uncover the concealed softness he’s eager to give out – but it's not like there's another way, Eddie is like this, take it or leave it.

Then, on a Saturday, March 22, 1986, the day after the most traumatic experience of his life happened, while in the hide at Reefer Rick’s boat house near Lover's Lake, he finds himself threatening with a broken bottle an Omega – his Omega – wary hazel eyes searching his and fluffy hair and maple syrup scent chanting mate.

And Steve fucking thrills at him? He didn't even know he could make such a sound and now he's thrilling to a weirdo Alpha he never spoke with before?

And Eddie damn right rumbles back at him? He never even dared to do such a thing with anyone and now he's rumbling to the school jock?

The bottle slips from the Alpha's grip and shatters on the dirty floor.

His hands gently cradle the Omega’s face, fingers brushing his cheekbones and eyes mapping his features, memorizing all of his beauty marks and filing them under ‘adorable’ – this precious thing is his. Steve follows absently his touch like a moth attracted to light, molding himself into the Alpha’s embrace, basking in the unbearable warmth he’s radiating – he never felt really at home until now.

Next thing they know, they are nuzzling and rubbing all over each other, hands grabbing and fingers scraping and mouths opening into bitey kisses, both already hard and dizzy for the sudden need to have the other here and now. Steve core clenches and soon Eddie can whiff the lush smell of fresh slick. His fangs throb in response and a deep, pleased rumble spreads from his chest, a sound that makes Steve literally melt into his arms.

Finally clocking in the situation, Robin yelps and immediately whisks away Dustin and Max from the boat house, because Jesus Christ in Heaven, the air in there stinks of mating call and she's not up to witness whatever those two are clearly intending to engage in the next hours. Less than ever, to let two minors under her temporary custody witness it.

She comes back alone at the boat house the next day, bringing supplies – food, water, blankets, clean clothes, deodorants. She knocks more than a few times, you know, to give them the opportunity to not traumatize her, thank you very much. Then she gingerly steps inside, preventively pinching her nose and looking with only one eye open in the dreadful event that she comes across an unwanted sight.

When she finds them she has to choke back an emotional croon, because… aww! They are so freaking cute!

Huddled together on the boat under – thank God! – an old, shaggy blanket. Which eww, it looks dirty and itchy, but they are both soundly asleep and reeking contentment, so... good for them, she guesses? Eddie is wrapped protectively around Steve, who's purring loud and steady with his face snuggled under his chin, nose pressed on the Alpha's bonding spot. The Omega's own is sporting a brand new claiming bite, still red and swollen.

Robin leaves the supplies on the nearest free surface and walks away, somehow managing to do it without stumbling and breaking her neck – yay for her!

Closing the door behind her, she has to dry some happy tears: her Dingus has finally found his mate! Yeah, there's that little detail about an actual apocalypse impending over all of them, but you know what? At least they will go with a bang!

Except they will not.

None of them will go, with or without any bang. Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington just formed a damn power couple and now are near unstoppable: Vecna doesn't have any chance to win against their combined efforts to save the day and live happily ever after.

Especially since Steve wasn’t under any birth control when they mated right away, and the pregnancy hormones are already working non-stop to make him damn feral. Eddie looks at his mate in awe as he unleashes his wrath over the Demobats, actively saving his ass from certain death.

“Do not. Touch. My Mate. Ever. Again.” he snarls, smashing the monsters with his nailed bat, black goo blood splattering all over and hairy tiddies on display.

Eddie can’t feel more glad to have bonded with such an incredible badass Omega. He needs to send a gift to Reefer Rick, maybe buy from him the whole property and redo it into a real house for his Omega and their pup. Lover's Lake sounds metal as hell for a home address.

Read it on AO3

[depressed-freak13]

Apollo's New Muse

AO3 | written for @steddiebingo hop into spring mini event | prompt: blind date | rating: t | wc: 4.3k | cw: language, allusions to a toxic relationship (not steddie) | tags: alternate universe - no upside down, modern au, blind date, getting together, eddie POV, past stancy (but they're friends now), platonic soulmates eddie munson and nancy wheeler

Eddie walks into the restaurant exactly 10 minutes before 7:00 – enough time to survey the place without stress. As if he isn’t at least comfortably familiar with the place already – one of his blind date stipulations, a place that he knew well enough to know how to navigate without panic. He takes a look around, eyes flitting to each and every exit, as he walks up to the host stand. “Hi, uh, reservation under Wheeler?” 

The host smiles at him as they type into their computer. “Perfect. Got you right here, Mr. Wheeler. Follow me.” Eddie wrinkles his nose at being called Mr. Wheeler, but Nancy insisted on putting the reservation in her name for the date, so he swallows down the prickly feeling as the host grabs two menus and silverware and leads Eddie through the restaurant. They stop at a small table off to the side wall, other patrons murmuring into their dinners around them. “Here you are, sir. I’ll bring your guest once they arrive.”

Eddie thanks the host and takes a seat, quickly resuming his scan of the place. He notes every exit and the fastest path to get to every exit three times over in his head, repeats it like the life-saving mantra he knows it to be. He knows the place, but it’s always good, he thinks, to review everything and remind himself of the exits in case they suddenly moved, or one of them was cordoned off for some reason, or there was a massive party that would be hell to navigate past, or–

Eddie sighs.

He hadn’t ever thought too much about the exits of a place, or how many things could actually be an exit when you put your mind to it – and you’d be surprised, really, at what could be an exit if you were desperate enough. 

No, he hadn’t thought too seriously about that.

Not until Billy. 

Until Billy’s charming smile and strong hands and gruffness swooped into his life and turned it all upside down. 

His phone buzzes on the table. 

Nancy: stop biting your nails or i’ll come throw my drink on you

Eddie laughs, looking up to scan the room again. He spots Nancy at one of the barside tables, perfectly in his line of vision. 

She’s a saint, he’s decided. 

He lifts the hand he’d been absolutely mauling and finger waves at her. She only smirks in response and gives him a tiny thumbs up.

Eddie: as if you would risk ruining the hair you spent so long on fixing, nance-a-lot

He hears her laugh across the room and something settles within him, small chunks of the colossal anxiety within him melting away at the sound. Nancy is here. And wherever Nancy is means safety. 

Eddie breathes out a bit easier, feels his chest loosen just a bit. It’s going to be okay. He’ll make it through this blind date, go home with his best friend, vent about what a disaster it was, and move on with his life. Maybe then Nancy would accept that he just wants to be alone.

Being alone is safer. Easier. Less messy. 

Less terrifying. 

“Stop spiraling, Munson.” He breathes out, shakes his hands out at his sides in an effort to calm himself. A waiter comes by and fills up a glass with water for him. Eddie smiles, offers up his thanks, sips on the water. He focuses intently on his breathing, willing his nerves to mellow the fuck out. 

He scans the restaurant again, surveys the people enjoying their dinners and drinks, tries to see if he recognizes any of them or if any of them look threatening in any way. He’s on his second round of re-checking the area, his eyes sweeping back toward the front of the restaurant when they land on, quite literally, the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Eddie mutters, hand gripping his water glass a bit too tightly, as he stares at the man who just waltzed in the front door. 

Eddie can’t glean much from this far, but what he can, he decides, is absolute beauty. If you could bottle up the concept of beautiful and market it to the masses, this man would be the face of it all. The essence. The sole driving force of it. Without him, beautiful doesn’t even exist. 

Eddie’s not even sure he knew what beautiful was before seeing this man. This man, with his swoop of soft as fuck looking hair, with his slightly tanned skin, with his fucking polo shirt tight around his biceps, with–

The man laughs then. At what? Eddie has no fucking clue, but now he’s laser focused on the sound. That laugh could be bottled up, too, as a fucking drug. A pick me up for the hard days. A pure shot of serotonin. 

Forget antidepressants – just have this man laugh into a bottle, squeeze it down into a powder, mix it all up, and fucking sell it to poor, pitiful fucks like Eddie so they have some minor modicum of joy in their dull lives. 

And that mouth? Jesus. He’s far away, but Eddie is sure that is the prettiest mouth he’s ever seen. Eddie can just make out tiny dots across the man’s skin, freckles or moles, he’s not sure, but fuck is he hoping its both. He wants to map out this man’s body, find every dot lining his skin and lick them. 

Eddie snaps out of his reverie when he sees the man start moving, walking alongside the host that sat Eddie, smiling and laughing back and forth. Eddie realizes with an ice cold clarity that this man is his date only a millisecond before the host gestures at the table and speaks, “Here you are, sir. Your waiter will be with you shortly. Have a great evening!” The man thanks the host and slides into the seat across from Eddie. The host walks off back to their stand, wholly unaware of how they just changed Eddie’s entire goddamn life. 

Good or bad? Fuck if Eddie knows. 

If Eddie thought he was fucked from afar ogling this man, he’s doubly fucked now that he can see his eyes up close. Eyes that are goddamn glittering back at him, perfectly smooth and golden like his morning coffee. 

“Hi.” The man’s voice – soft but a bit scratchy, like it’s been well-used – slips between the cracks in Eddie’s armor, slithers down into the caverns of his being, and sings, spreading warmth into his aching muscles. The man smiles at Eddie, a half-face kind of thing, one that looks like it’s excited but restraining itself, unsure yet of what it’s allowed to show. 

It’s only then that Eddie realizes he’s probably been staring like a goddamn creep instead of greeting this fucking adonis of a man. 

The man’s eyes flicker to Eddie’s glass. “You mad at your water?”

“Shit.” Eddie relinquishes the glass, his hand frigid and pruning at the prolonged contact.

The man reaches across the table, offering up a napkin. “Here you go.”

Eddie takes the napkin, mutters a quiet thanks that comes out more like a garble that he’s sure isn’t even audible, never even makes it past his lips, as he dries off his hand. He flexes his fingers, trying to regain more of the sensation back into them. 

“So…” The man coughs, a sad thing. The kind of cough someone does when they’re feeling awkward, or left out, or forgotten.

“Shit.” Eddie spits out, looks up frantically.

The man laughs, and if Eddie thought it was beautiful before, he’s fucking starstruck by it now being so close to it. He’s half tempted to dump his water into the plant behind him and use his empty glass to corral all the laughter he can before sealing it off and hoarding it home with him like a dragon. “Is that the only word you know?”

Eddie blinks.

“Shit.” The man clarifies, a smirk spreading across his face. “Is it? The only word you know?” 

Eddie breaks then, laughter of his own spilling out as he goes to drag his hands down his face, stopping mere seconds before his fingers collide with the eyeliner Nancy helped him perfect. He settles for ruffling his hair instead, can practically hear Nancy both chastising and mocking him in his head. 

The man raises an eyebrow. “So, you can laugh. That’s good to know. We’re up to at least two distinct sounds now.”

“Shit – no, fuck, man – I mean–” Eddie groans, wrings one hand across his mouth.

“Take your time.” The man smirks, and god, does Eddie want to taste it.

The waiter comes by then to fill up the man’s water. “Hi, I’m Alex, I’ll be your waiter tonight. Are you two ready to order, or would you like some more time?”

“We’d love some more time to look over things, if that’s okay, Alex?” The man beams up at the waiter. 

Alex smiles in response and nods. “Of course. I’ll circle back soon. Let me know if you have any questions.”

Alex walks off, leaving Steve to turn back toward Eddie, his eyes sparkling anew with something Eddie can’t quite identify, but fuck if it doesn’t look like trouble.

“So, the waiter has introduced themself to me before my date has. That’s one for the books.” The man quips, a teasing lilt to his smile as he sips his Alex water. 

If Eddie hadn’t spent the last years of his life learning how to read every single expression and movement a person could make, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight tension to the man’s jaw, or the way his fingers kept rubbing the same pattern across his water glass, almost obsessively so. He notices the man’s leg tapping beneath the table, too, a staccato beat that wants to shoot up Eddie’s own leg and burrow deep in the cavern inside of him. 

The man’s nervous, maybe anxious or upset. Something bad in between all the hopefulness flayed out for Eddie to see. Eddie wonders how someone can wear their emotions so easily, put them out to be scrutinized like this.

Well, not everyone is traumatized like you, dumbass, Eddie thinks to himself.

He sighs and leans forward, pulling his hands to his lap to fidget in silence, away from prying eyes like his own. Out of sight, out of mind. He clears his throat, looks up into the absolute ray of sunshine across from him, part of him wishing the radiance will burn his skin, give him something tangible to remember today by. “I’m sorry. I’m so out of practice with, like, all of this.”

“What, dating?”

“I mean, yeah.” Eddie focuses on spinning his rings, tries desperately to keep his head up and focused on the man in front of him, but he feels that familiar anxiety bubble roiling inside of him.

The man leans forward and smiles, soft and kind. “Well, let me help you get back into the swing of things, then. I’m Steve.”

Eddie cocks his head slightly, brain working overtime to pin down Steve, a name so familiar yet apparently blocked off when the man himself is sent specifically to torture him. “Eddie.”

Steve practically beams in response, the tension slipping from his body. “Eddie.” He snaps his fingers twice across the table, then points. “The artist slash musician, yeah?” 

Eddie blinks, because apparently that’s what his brain deems as an acceptable response when caught off guard. “...yeah? How’d you–?”

“Nance hasn’t shut up about you since the day you two became friends, basically. Just didn’t realize that’s who she set me up with until now, though I should have guessed.” Steve shrugs.

Eddie’s brain short-circuits for approximately 8 seconds as he stares back at Steve. He blinks again, because that’s all he’s fucking good for, apparently, until the name Steve resonates like an old song in his brain. “Oh, shit.” 

He shifts his gaze from Steve over to Nancy at her bar table. She’s smiling at him already when she catches his stare, her expression shifting, eyebrows raising in question. Eddie tilts his head at Steve and slightly widens his eyes. She mouths at him to “stay” and glares in response, crossing her arms across her chest. 

Eddie squints back at her, pulls his hands up from their fidgeting to sign back, “Why?” 

Nancy rolls her eyes and relents, signing back her own, “Please. Just trust me.”

Eddie sighs, signs back, “Fine. We’ll talk later.” Nancy nods, smiles in response before turning back to whoever the fuck had materialized at her table when Eddie was too busy ogling Steve. Shit, should he be watching her?

“Were you just signing with Nancy?” Steve’s voice is full of awe.

Eddie snaps back to Steve, his own eyes wide with shock and curiosity. “You know ASL?”

Steve smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. I, uh –” He grimaces, reaches a hand up to fidget with the hair over his ear, slightly fluffing it out. “Nance kind of taught me? Or, I guess, we learned together? It’s all kind of muddy, honestly.” 

Eddie slumps back. “Fuck, you really are her ex, aren’t you?”

Steve’s grimace grows at that and he flinches – honest to god flinches. “You figured it out, then?”

“Just now, yeah.”

Steve sighs. “Do you want me to go?”

Eddie looks back at Steve, at the way he’s folded in on himself, arms across his chest, no longer the open laughing adonis of a man that had slid into his life just ten minutes ago. Thinks about how he’d feel if he never got to hear that laugh again, see that smile again, see the glittering of those eyes again. His heart makes the choice before his brain can catch up to just how much this man screams danger. “No.”

Steve quirks his brow up, his shoulders dropping slightly. “No?”

“No, I don’t want you to go, unless you want to.” Maybe he doesn’t have to be danger. Maybe he can just be…a small catastrophe. Yeah, sure, that reasoning is fully sound, Eddie, fucking hell.

“‘S not too weird for you? Best friend on a date with best friend’s ex?”

Eddie laughs, then stops as he notices how Steve flinches away from him at the sound. He leans forward immediately and, at the flick of a switch, schools his face into his calmest smile. “Shit, man, I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. I was laughing at myself.” Eddie sighs, settles his arms on the table. “Look, I don’t know what Nancy’s told you about me, but, my life is, like, the textbook definition of weird.” 

Steve leans a bit closer to the table, his shoulders dropping a bit more. “Yeah?” 

Eddie takes it as a win and keeps going. “Actually, I think they had to write, like, whole new ass textbooks and shit to make room for what level of weirdness my life exudes.” Eddie spots the edge of a smile on Steve’s lips and locks in, his only goal in life now to resurrect that smile. He leans forward, drops his voice to a whisper as he glances furtively over Steve’s shoulder and back to his beautiful eyes. “I think Nancy helped write it, to be honest. She’s probably working on a new edition right now, taking notes of every weird ass thing I do on my date with Adonis over here.”

Steve laughs. Not the full, beautiful sound from earlier, but halfway there. Eddie grins, a full face thing, surely something maniacal, but he can’t be bothered to care, because Steve is laughing and lowering his shoulders even more. Eddie fake shushes him and continues. “I’m serious! I think she, like, snuck into my room and took meticulous notes of my life when I was at work to help her like I’m a goddamn character study of hers for some article.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s always been too determined for her own good.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie’s grin intensifies, happy to have gotten something in response now. Evening isn’t totally botched, then.

“Yeah. She wrote circles around everyone on the school paper. Shocked none of us when she got that scholarship up here.” Steve slumps his shoulders fully, leans his arms on the table in a mirror of Eddie’s. 

“Oh, I’m not surprised. She’s fucking killing it. She ever tell you how we became friends?”

Steve smiles, leans forward the slightest amount, but enough that Eddie notices and his own breath hitches in response. “She might have, but I’d rather hear the story from Apollo here.”

Eddie quirks a brow. “Apollo?”

“If I’m Adonis, then you’re definitely Apollo.”

Eddie, to no one’s surprise, blinks back.

“You have no clue what Apollo does, do you?”

“Not a one, Stevie.”

Steve blushes, bites his lip as he ducks his head, runs a hand through his delectable hair. Fuck. “He, uh, he’s known for like, being the brother of Artemis, or whatever. And people tend to think of archery with him, or prophecy honestly. But, he’s really cool and important, also, for all of the stuff he does with music. Like, really good with music and poetry and captivating people. So, yeah – you do music, ergo, Apollo.”

“Ergo?” Eddie blushes, bites his lip to hold back a laugh, and maybe a love confession, but Steve doesn’t have to know that. 

Steve sighs, but his mouth holds a slight smirk. “Are you just going to repeat the words I say back at me the whole date?”

“If it keeps making you make that cute face, then yeah, absolutely.” 

“Jesus fucking christ.” Steve mutters, ducking his face into his hands briefly. “Just tell the story, man.”

Eddie admires Steve for a brief moment. Looks at how the low lights coat his hair in a honey-like swirl, how his biceps are practically screaming at the sleeves of his polo, how, oh my god is that chest hair peeking out? Fuck, Eddie is so gone on this man already. He swallows, his throat suddenly thick with premature love confessions and thoughts of Steve’s writhing body beneath him. “How can Apollo spin a tale if he can’t see the face of his Adonis to inspire him on?”

“Oh my god.” Steve groans – a literal groan. That doesn’t do anything untoward to Eddie at all. Nothing. “You said you’re out of practice, you can’t just say shit like that, man. You’re not out of practice at all.”

Eddie smirks. “Appreciate the vote of confidence there, Stevie. Now, can I please gaze upon your beautiful face again so we can continue the best night of my life?”

Steve looks up then, biting back his own blinding smile. “Best night of your life, huh?” Eddie nods. “Well, who am I to disrupt that?” 

Alex circles back to their table then. “Are we ready, folks? Any questions about the menu?”

Steve and Eddie mutter out a simultaneous shit, realizing they’d spent the last however long flirting instead of actively looking at the menu. 

Alex seems to read the panic on their faces and smiles. “I’ll give you a few more minutes.” He leans in briefly, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “Though, if I can offer a suggestion, my favorites, underrated as they are, are the chicken marsala and the chicken florentine. The salads are also amazing.” With that, Alex winks, then leans back and walks off to another table.

Eddie locks eyes with Steve. “Well, I think Alex just decided my dinner for me.”

Steve laughs, some of that beautiful music from earlier returning to his voice, much more relaxed now. Eddie warms at that, cherishes the feeling of comfort it brings. “Yeah, me too.” He stares back at Eddie for a moment. “There’s more important things I want to spend my energy focusing on besides choosing what to eat.”

“Yeah?” Eddie can’t help the hopeful lilt to his voice.

Steve leans forward, places his hand, palm up on the table between them. “Yeah, Apollo.”

The blush comes on so violently that Eddie knows he must look like he just spent the whole day walking in the park, but he doesn’t care. Not when Steve is smiling at him like this, posture relaxed and easy, eyes twinkling with mischief and mirth at him. Not when Steve has his hand laid out like an invitation, something that seems to promise more warmth and comfort and enjoyment. Eddie flicks his eyes between Steve’s eyes and hand. If it makes Steve anxious or concerned, he doesn’t let on – just keeps gazing at Eddie so soft.

Against his better judgement, against all the warring in his chaotic brain, Eddie’s resolve breaks, a crack in the carefully crafted armor, just big enough for him to slip through to offer the tiniest sliver of his being to the man before him.

Eddie slips his palm into Steve’s. The second their skin connects, it’s like firecrackers in his bloodstream, exploding through every fiber of his being, laying down new paths through the sinew stringing him together, crushing and reknitting his bones to make them full of warmth and strength, swirling around his brain and sneaking into the recesses there to replace fear and hurt with kindness and comfort. His whole body vibrates with the shock of Steve’s touch, but Steve doesn’t waver. He squeezes Eddie’s hand in response, links their fingers together. Eddie can’t help it, lets out a shuddering breath, a quiet, “Fuck.”

Steve lets out a small laugh. “Maybe not on the first date, but we’ll see how the night goes.”

Eddie groans. “You can’t just say shit like that to me, Stevie. Do you even realize how beautiful you are?”

“Right back at you, Apollo.” Steve beams at him, a smile so blinding that, yeah, Eddie could really use sunglasses or something to protect him.

So, Eddie flicks his gaze over Steve’s shoulder to catch Nancy’s attention. The one person he trusts to protect him in any capacity. It takes a moment, but she looks up and locks eyes with him, a questioning tilt to her head. Eddie does his best to convey his inner turmoil to her through minute facial expressions – a slight lift to his brow, a widening of his eye in question of if he can really have this, if this is really good and okay. 

If this isn’t going to bite him in the ass or leave him beaten and bruised in the end. 

He’d sign to her, but knowing Steve knows ASL…yeah, not very subtle, though Eddie doubts he’s being subtle now, but he’s choosing to ignore that and hoping Steve is too. Plus, he’d have to let go of Steve’s hand, and like hell he’s going to do that right now.

Nancy smiles back at him, signs to him because she has nothing to hide from. “You like him?”

Eddie nods.

“You’re scared?”

Another nod.

Her smile softens. Eddie vaguely notices the person at the table with her looking back and forth between them. He’ll have to question Nancy later, but she doesn’t seem to be in any trouble, so he’s letting it slide for now. “You deserve this, Eddie. He’s good. I promise.” 

Nancy’s table partner seems to widen their own eyes at that and Eddie’s gaze locks briefly with them. The person narrows their eyes, goddamn signs to him. Jesus. “He’s amazing. Don’t hurt him. Or else.”

Fuckin’ hell, did Eddie just get signed an abbreviated shovel talk from some random person hanging out with Nancy? Well, maybe not wholly random. He guesses that they know Steve or else they wouldn’t have shovel talked him via sign language. That’s a new one. 

Eddie nods back, at both of them, he guesses, and they smile and return to their own conversation. Jesus, Eddie is going to have a hell of a conversation with Nancy later. 

Alex rounds back to the table then, a smile on his own face. “We ready, gentlemen?”

Eddie looks at Steve, a smile shared between them, before turning to face their waiter. “Yeah, Alex. The chicken florentine sounds great.”

“Chicken marsala for me, then.” Steve looks up at Alex. “Thanks so much for your recommendations.”

A pleased look takes over Alex’s face as he writes down their orders. “Of course, gentlemen. I’ll get this put in right away. Just flag me down if you need anything.” With that, he takes their menus and walks off, leaving them in their own little bubble again. 

Eddie turns his gaze back to Steve, returns to his body at the slow circles being rubbed against his hand by the man before him. Steve’s face holds a questioning smile, a small lift of his brow. 

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand and offers his own smile, lets off the brakes and lets it really take over his face. Steve’s own brightens at that, his eyes widening a bit, sparkling like a goddamn river in the sunrise, rippling with currents of emotions that Eddie’s not sure of, not sure he can handle losing if this all goes to shit. 

But, what if it doesn’t go to shit? What if he’s different?

If Eddie’s being honest, which he rarely is, at least with himself, he’s goddamn terrified. But, he’s holding the hand of some Greek symbol of perfected beauty brought to life, feeling the full warmth of that touch throughout this entire body. He’s looking into soft eyes that scream of morning coffee over the kitchen island; feeling the warmth of a palm that promises movie nights snuggled together under a thick quilt, limbs tangled until it’s wholly unidentifiable who they belong to; seeing the radiating edges of a blinding smile that promises more laughter and love than Eddie’s ever experienced, enough to fill him and start to heal the very foundation of his being alongside the patches Nancy has managed to place.

So, Eddie laughs, swallows down the loudest parts of dissent within him and says, “Fuck it.” He props his elbow up and leans against his open palm. “Alright, Adonis. I think I owe you a story.” 

Steve mirrors Eddie’s pose, face radiating mirth and softness. “Serenade me, then, Apollo.”

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[depressed-freak13]

today I used the phrase "breasting boobily" in casual real life conversation and everyone was shocked asking how I came up with that and I had to explain it. ive been at the devil's sacrament so long that I forgot he wasn't god