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[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Finishing Something (Discord Drabble) Technically a continuation of this and then this (my past two drabbles). But they can be read standalone. I'm going to put them into one ao3 post whenever it is that I decide this little silly saga is over!

Steve should really be grabbing something for breakfast, seeing as he and Eddie had skipped dinner last night to go and makeout in his car, instead of doing this.

That being, shuffling to the Munson’s bathroom, thoroughly wiped out enough to go straight back to bed (hopefully, not on the couch this time) with nothing but his crumpled maroon polo still on.

Eddie insisted on going back outside to finish up with the car after well…

What they just did.

In the kitchen, no less.

And Eddie, the smug bastard, had the audacity to slap Steve on the bare ass and chuckle, “Go shower, Winnie the Pooh,” (a term of endearment he hopes never to hear again).

“Shit,” he mumbles, the echo of that playful slap reverberating through his hazy and still far too horny pea-brain as he steps into the bathroom, tugs off his shirt and tosses it aside.

But as he reaches for the cold water faucet, Steve spots a smear of ashen something on his hand.

“Wha – ?” he frowns, upturning his palm and following smears of different shades up his arm to find goddamn fingerprints.

He twists around to get a better look at his bicep before catching sight of more on his hips – marks that go down and over…

Steve promptly palms at the plump flesh of his ass, but can only make out a set of greedy fingertips before his stupid car crash-inducing hip and lower back twinges stop him from investigating further.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but after placing his hand on the shower curtain rung and standing on his tip-toes, Steve is enable to get a look at himself in the world’s smallest bathroom mirror.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims, feeling a flush crawl up his neck at the sight of a full handprint square in the middle of his left butt cheek.

“Ha! I knew it!”

Steve jumps and turns to find Eddie hanging off the door frame, staring with wild, hungry eyes. Just as he had done earlier when he caught Steve admittedly, gawking at his mechanic attire.

Steve frowns and cups a hand over himself.

“I’m getting in the shower.”

“But not before you stare at your glorious ass in the mirror,” Eddie teases, giggling as he twirls a lock of hair that falls from his loose bun, “Careful, you might turn to stone.”

“Huh?” Steve hums, confused as he focuses on his boyfriend's desperate need for a much stronger scrunchie.

“No need to worry about your modesty with me, sweetheart,” Eddie continues, clutching his proverbial pearls as he smirks, “Anyway, hurry up. We gotta finish up with this car. Then maybe we could continue on with some… Further activities.”

“More?” Steve asks, quirking a brow.

Eddie nods, all too pleased with himself. He shoves his hands into his jumpsuit pockets, pulling it tight against his torso and – 

Steve gulps and scrambles for the shower.

[shares-a-vest]

I'm not going to be able to listen to The Tortured Poet's Department until way later tonight 😭

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: The Beemer

Word count: 377

characters/ships: Steddie

Pulling into the trailer park Steve is not at all surprised to see that Eddie is in fact not ready and waiting out front like he had promised yesterday when he’d asked (read begged) him for a lift. Parking the car he presses the horn once and waits for the metalhead to appear.

After a few minutes Eddie spills out the door of his trailer looking like he’d only just woken up. Stumbling towards the Beemer he pulls the front door open.

“You’re sitting in the back.” Steve tells him, meeting his eyes. Eddie freezes a confused frown on his face as he tries to figure out if Steve’s joking or not.

“Why?”

“Robin sits in the front.” Steve tells him mater of factly turning the key in the ignition, the beemer jumping to life.

“But you picked me up first.” Eddie says still standing in the open passenger side door.

“It’s not me you need to fight it’s robin.” Steve tells him and something about that sentence makes Eddie draw his cheek into his mouth and squint at Steve as he thinks.

“But I’m your boyfriend.” He says

“So.” Steve asks, meeting his eyes.

“So I should get to sit in the front, not Robin.” He argues and Steve glances at his watch checking how late they’re going to be picking her up.

“Look it’s not me you have to convince and I’m sure, just get in the car.” He says placing his hands on the steering wheel.

“Ugh fine.” Eddie huffs out throwing his head back dramatically before slamming the front door.

“Hey don't slam my door.” Steve calls as Eddie pulls open the back door.

“Just cause your van broke down doesn’t mean you need to take it out on mine.” He adds as Eddie throws his back pack into the seat before sliding in and sitting in the backseat behind the passenger seat.

“This is unfair.” He grumbles

“Yeah yeah it must be such an injustice to have to sit in the back seat.” Steve meets Eddie's eyes through the rear view mirror, a smirk on his face, he laughs when Eddie sticks his tongue out at him. Shaking his head Steve slowly turns around and starts the drive to pick up Robin.

[shares-a-vest]

STWG prompt 18/4/24

prompt: the beemer

pairing/character(s): steddie

-

"I didn't see your van outside, you need a ride home?" Gareth asks as everyone's packing up their dice sets.

Eddie looks up from scribbling notes down about important character actions with a hum, and notices that the concerned look on Gareth's face is mirrored by Jeff and Freak.

The freshmen members of the club aren't interested, whispering excitedly amongst themselves about something that will probably cause Eddie problems at their next session. (He catches some complaints about biking home too. Losers.)

"What? No, no, don't worry man." He assures with a smile, and goes back to his notes. Steve's picking him up today. They have a date. Which, sure, he's been on a few official dates with Steve now, but they still make him so... jittery and excited.

He shakes his head at the half-finished page of his notebook and readies his pen. He can't forget that Mike now has a bag of holding, so he writes that down and then closes the notebook and nods to himself, satisfied.

When he looks back up his bandmates are still staring at him in concern.

"What?"

"You literally never leave your van at home." Jeff points out, and then Freak adds on:

"You call it your child sometimes."

"Hey. Pac-Van is a she, thank you very much." Eddie says, "But seriously, it's fine. I just got a ride this morning and he's picking me up too."

He hasn't gotten round to telling them about him and Steve yet. He knows they'll take great pleasure in making fun of him getting with a jock. You know, because of all those rants he likes to go on at the lunch tables about said jocks... Whatever.

"From Wayne?"

"No." He rolls his eyes at the questioning and shoves his stuff into his backpack, then makes a quick decision. Fuck it, "I promise I'll be fine, you big babies. Harrington's a good driver."

"Harrington?!" They all ask in sync, and that gets the attention of their newer recruits, who are still chattering away. Their heads all snap over to them.

"Why're you talking about Steve?" Mike asks, looking vaguely disgusted. Dustin elbows him in the side.

"Don't worry your angsty little head about it, Wheeler." Eddie says with a grin, and then finally picks up his backpack, "Now I have places to be and people to see so I trust you all to leave this room as you found it? I gotta go."

And with that he leaves the room, ignoring Freak's voice from behind him.

"I thought he was just giving you a ride home."

He makes it to the parking lot just as the beemer pulls in, and finds a smile appearing on his face at the sight. Because he's feeling dramatic, he does a wild little wave at the car. He can't see Steve yet, but he knows that made him chuckle, or at least smile.

"Hey, taxi for Munson?" Steve yells out of his window as he slows the car to a stop, and Eddie's smile widens.

"Oh, we're roleplaying tonight, are we?" He asks as he walks around to the passenger side and gets in. He's pretty sure Steve rolls his eyes at him, but he's also pretty sure he's doing it in a fond way. Hopefully.

Steve doesn't drive off immediately, a glint of something intense in his gaze as he looks at Eddie. He's leaning toward Eddie a little too, and having Steve Harrington's full attention on him is not something Eddie's used to yet, so an unbidden blush appears on his cheeks.

"Good day?"

"Great day, Stevie."

"Good. Can't wait to hear about it over dinner." Steve nods, and his eyes flicker down to his lips for a second, and then he leans out of Eddie's space to start the car up again.

Right. Public space. Homophobic small town. Yadda yadda, kissing can wait until they're safely indoors.

Eddie's too busy fiddling with the radio as the beemer drives off to notice Freak, Gareth and Jeff stood staring at the car from in front of the school doors, perplexed looks on their faces, as the freshmen run over to the bike racks. But he'll definitely be hearing all about their thoughts at band practice.

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Prompt: The Beemer (Discord Drabble) Continuation of yesterday's drabble. But this one can be read standalone seeing as I contextualised right up top.

Steve startles awake at a loud and continuous banging sound coming from outside. He squints at the window, unable to see anything through the half-opened blind and his own tired eyes.

He sits upright, his stupid hip pinching again – an ache that got him into this mess in the first place.

Somehow, his car crunching into a log beam at a rest spot on Lover's Lake – all caused by his boyfriend's eagerness – resulted in a night on the couch.

He should probably consider it all a close call, he thinks as he stands up and stretches. The Beemer only suffered a crumpled up front bumper.

... He thinks.

But had been good enough to drive home, even as it emitted a rather brain-splitting scraping sound as they crawled their way back to Eddie's house, bickering all the way.

They had eventually tired from arguing and Steve crashed out on the couch just after Eddie stomped off to his bed, grumbling about their relationship, "lacking in sucking-face sessions", as if they don't do that at every opportunity already.

Steve shuffles to the door and opens it, only to be confronted with a much louder banging sound as Eddie hammers at the now detached front bumper.

He gulps, bracing himself against the door frame as he watches Eddie raise a strong arm, hammer in hand and bang, bang, bang.

Steve jolts at the sound – and not because a piece of his precious baby is being battered back into position.

No, Eddie's arm is flexing with every swing, his gloved hand clenching as he pulls back and Steve realises his hair is up too, tied in a loose, high bun.

A lock falls out and Eddie tucks it back behind his ear, wiping his brow in one swift movement before continuing. He readjusts his stance, his mechanic's overalls pulling taught against his small, slim waist –

"Don't worry," Eddie says. It breaks Steve from his grease-stained trance enough to look up and find his boyfriend frowning, "I looked inside and she seems just fine. I just gotta bash out this bar and your license plate."

Steve thinks he mumbles something in reply, but all he really catches is Eddie's flashy, impossibly charming smile back.

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sleepy boy 💤

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18+ | cw: blood, spit, unsafe sex | crossposted on twitter | written for @subeddieweek

the bats turn steve.

there’s no rhyme or reason to why they didn’t turn eddie, too. the best they can come up with is that steve didn’t originally succumb to his bites like eddie did. he stayed upright, alive, giving the change time to pump through his veins.

it’s been long enough since the whole ordeal that steve’s come to whatever terms he can with the fact that he’s no longer a perfect, warm red blooded guy from the midwest like he used to be. no, now he’s cold more often than not with freaky senses and too pointy teeth.

but even with everything happening, every sad, angry, confusing thing that came with yet another thing their crew doesn’t understand, he at least got eddie out of it. he got a partner who kisses like he means it, who lets steve warm his cold feet between his own warm ones in bed.

eddie didn’t change, but there’s… something. something steve can smell thrumming through his very alive, probably very human veins. something that smells like family, smells like home, smells like rot and rust, mildew and bats that can only be found in a different dimension.

and steve… he craves it. no one else, just eddie and his perfect blood that has traces of steve and the brother bats they left behind when they closed a gate and won an impossible war. so when it comes time to feed, to feast on blood that smells and tastes so nostalgically sweet-

“fuck baby, harder- please-“ steve takes.

he fucks into eddie like the primal animal he’s become, he pulls hips and hair and limbs to get him where he wants him. needs him. he smacks broad open palms over pale white skin, listens to how blood rushes to both eddie’s cock and to the skin underneath his hands.

steve huffs, grunts like a beast as he gets his fill of the pretty pretty sounds eddie gifts him and revels in the warmth around his cock that eddie gives him graciously. he stores eddie’s whines in his memory for lonely nights and thrusts harder until he gets even more whines.

steve trails his fingers over eddie’s back, teasing him with the claws that come out when he thirsts, tangles a hand in his hair and smacks his ass again. once, twice, three four five times. hard enough and fast enough that eddie lets out a sob.

steve has to get him nice and red, after all.

he spills into eddie as he digs the claw on his thumb into the flesh, red and warm with the sweetest meal steve could ever ask for anymore. crimson drops appearing on flushed pink, trailing onto his pale back as he continues to thrust through his release.

and eddie’s babbling like he always does when he gives himself over to steve’s needs. he’s saying thank you, he’s begging for a release of his own, he’s begging for a taste of what, steve doesn’t know. but he’ll give him whatever he wants. eddie deserves anything that steve could give him.

steve smears his hand in the blood that beads up on his ass cheek, coats his fingers and licks it off- an appetizer. pulling eddie’s hair again, he tugs his head back to shove his fingertips into his mouth, feeding him his spit and eddie’s own blood. a thank you. a gift.

it doesn’t take long for eddie to come all over the bedsheets under them, body taut and stone still. steve pulls out as eddie shakes, swipes up a bit of his own come off his cock to feed to eddie, too. it’s mixed with the bits of blood and spit leftover on his fingers like a sacrament to prove how much he loves him.

eddie gets what he wants first, to taste and come and give. it’s how they always do things. his torso lands on the bed in a heap, his pretty pink ass still arched into the air.

“please-“ he groans, a mantra like music to his ears, and steve smacks him once more. “go ahead- please, please, please…."

steve can’t ignore it, the willingness to give, the permission to take. he smacks again as he licks over his teeth, canines shifting into sharp peaks as he hears and watches eddie’s addictive blood rush back to his sure to be bruised flesh.

“thank you, sweetheart,” steve finally says, his voice low and rough, words muffled as he pressed his lips to sinful skin.

his fangs sink in. his growl resounds through the room, eddie’s moan alongside it. steve takes and takes and takes and eddie gives.

a perfect match.

[shares-a-vest]

[more here]

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you ever think about sleepy Steve waking up in the morning with his hair sticking up all over the place and lines on his face from creases in his pillow pressing into his cheek, eyes all hooded and voice gravely?

it is a mental image that I cannot escape from. it plagues me. he is so pretty. I need to bite him.

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girlie that's not a random headache u are dehydrated malnourished over caffeinated over stressed and sleep deprived

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STRANGER THINGS 4 Chapter Seven: The Massacre at Hawkins Lab

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Nurture

For the STWG prompt "Nurture" We talked a little while ago about serial killer Wayne in the server....and I'm still obsessed

On the third day. Eddie came home. 

When no call for a manhunt came out, when no angry mobs stormed Reefer Rick’s place looking for Eddie’s head, when there wasn’t even a whisper of anything in the news, there was no other option. He didn’t even bother to try and sneak back into the trailer, just walked in and stared dumbfoundedly at the completely normal looking room in front of him.  

“Where…is she?” Eddie asked.  

No bloodstains, no disgustingly distorted corpse. No Chrissy.

Just his uncle, standing at the sink, washing his hands. 

“Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere safe.” Wayne muttered, continuing to rinse under the steaming hot water, not bothering to turn to look at his nephew, “What exactly happened?”

“I didn’t- I don’t- I would never-” Eddie stammered, trying to explain the unexplainable. 

“I know that, boy,” Wayne cut in, effortlessly silencing Eddie’s rambling as he turned around, wiping his now clean hands on a washcloth, “I know you better than anyone. You would never have done anything like that. You ain’t like me.”

Eddie’s breath escaped in a huge shaking sigh, and he immediately ran straight for Wayne, barrelling into his uncle’s arms and burrowing his face into his shoulder. The tears he had been holding in since Chrissy’s death came hot and heavy, Eddie’s entire body shaking from the force of grief that was finally being allowed to escape his body.  

He had been so scared. So sure no one could ever believe him. 

But Wayne understood. Wayne had always understood. Wayne knew him better than anyone. Wayne knew Eddie would never have done anything like that. Wayne…

It was then that the last sentence his uncle had spoken finally registered in Eddie’s brain. 

Eddie stiffened, slowly pulling back and looking at his uncle in horror. 

“Like you?” 

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Prompt: "Oops, that wasn't the plan" (Discord Drabble)

"Well, we're here," Steve says.

He rolls his eyes at himself for stating the obvious and lets his hands fall in his lap as Eddie fiddles with his own seatbelt beside him.

Steve looks out at their view of Lover's Lake through the windshield. It's quiet tonight, even for a Saturday, he thinks as he searches for another – hopefully better – line when Eddie turns and all but flips into the back seat.

"Come're, sweetheart," he says and Steve feels his collar and sleeve being yanked on.

"Eddie!" he shrieks, attempting to swat Eddie's hand away in efforts to save the neck hole of his new maroon polo shirt.

But Eddie doesn't let up, so he has no choice but to go with the movement and allow himself to be dragged into the back cab of the Beemer.

Steve only makes it about halfway, his ass just narrowly squishing past the centre console, when he feels a twinge in his hip, right on his thickened scar tissue. On reflex, he kicks out his leg and his shoe connects with the gear shift.

They both scream as the car rolls and soon crunches into the log wood barrier, saving them from careening down into the abyss.

"O-oops," Eddie splutters when they lurch back, "That wasn't the plan."

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Eddie has to tuck his arms in and hug his middle to fit, while Steve fills out the sleeves. Then he pops his head through the free space in the neck hole, grinning and flushed because his back is entirely pressed to Steve’s front.

“Well I’m in now, what do I win?” He snarks, then Steve’s arms suddenly lock around him, tight enough to pick him up. Barely containing a squeal that would’ve humiliated him to instant death, he holds his breath as Steve lowers onto the couch, arranging Eddie to sit on his lap.

He’s on Steve’s lap.

Jesus fucking Christ. Some prize.

💜

Trouble Looks Good On You by indelicate @steddielations

Uncropped version here

Another one for sub Eddie week 🥰

[shares-a-vest]

STWG prompt 17/4/24

prompt: "oops, that wasn't the plan"

pairing/character(s): steddie

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Steve's in the middle of squinting as he scans a library shelf for the textbook he needs when he gets rudely interrupted. A body crashes into him with nearly enough force to knock him over, and he only just manages to catch himself on the library shelves in front of him (with only a few casualties in the form of fallen books).

"Oops!" He hears from right behind him, way too loud for where they are. Sure, they're not in the silent study area, but it's still a library. Sudden noises are pretty noticeable.

Once he's recovered, he looks around the university library to see a few people's unimpressed eyes looking in his direction from their study desks. He feels heat rise from his chest to his cheeks at their attention, and suddenly flustered anger is coursing through him, because-

"What the hell?" He whisper yells, spinning around to face whoever had bumped into him.

He's about to start whisper yelling some more at whoever caused this, but then he sees who's stood in front of him, and- shit. He's hot.

Bright red, and with black curly hair up in a messy ponytail stands a guy around his height, with an expression Steve can only describe as mortification on his face. He's dressed in the student go-to late-night library session attire (university branded hoodie, sweatpants and shoes that are somewhere between slippers and clogs), and he's clutching something in one hand as he stares wide-eyed at Steve.

They stare at each other for a moment, and just as Steve's starting to get a little uncomfortable with it and opens his mouth to, once again, ask what the hell, the guy opens his own mouth and rushes out some hushed words.

"That wasn't the plan, I swear." He says nonsensically, and Steve just frowns at him.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm doing this all wrong." The guy mutters to himself, and suddenly crouches down to pick up the books that had fallen off the shelf.

He seems to use the time facing the ground to collect himself, because once he's stood upright again with the pile of books held in front of him he offers Steve a shy smile.

"My name's Eddie, and you are, just... so attractive and I've been wanting to come and talk to you for, like, an hour, and maybe give you my number? But then, I'm a total clutz, so- so I tripped and almost knocked you over instead. I am so sorry about that, by the way." His nerves seem to come back as he talks, because Steve notices his fingers tap anxiously at the bottom of the book-pile.

Steve's a little stunned by the onslaught of words, and must take too long to respond because Eddie winces after a moment and shakes his head as he averts his eyes.

"This was stupid. I'm so sorry for interrupting your night, you're probably cramming for a test or something." Eddie offers him a wounded smile this time, glancing at his face again, and then makes to turn and walk away.

"Wait- no. You can- um. I would love your number. Sorry, you caught me off guard." Steve says quietly, and Eddie stops moving, eyes going wide again. God, his eyes remind Steve of Bambi.

Steve takes a deep breath and tries to find the charisma he swears he usually has when he's not ambushed with an unexpected hot man.

"I mean, how else will I know how to contact you when I sue you for damages?"

He says it with a smile and a teasing eyebrow raise, but Eddie looks panicked at the words, like that's somehow something he's genuinely worried about, so Steve raises the hand he'd caught himself on the shelves with to show off the slightly reddened base of his palm.

"I'm mortally injured over here, I hope you have good insurance."

Finally, Eddie huffs out a surprised laugh, and the smile stays on his face once he quietens. It's a very pretty smile, much better than the nervous one he was wearing before.

"Right. Well, luckily for you I have my contact details ready to go for situations like this." He says, and (with a little fumbling to reposition the books he's holding) offers Steve an incredibly crumpled up piece of paper.

Steve unfolds it to find a phone number scrawled out, with a ridiculous drawing of a stick figure holding a landline and a speech bubble saying 'call me!'. He carefully folds up the piece of paper, pointedly pockets it, and offers Eddie another smile.

"Thanks, I will for sure be calling later. I just- I am cramming for a test, you were right. So..." He trails off, a little unsure and awkward again.

Eddie just nods, still grinning, and makes to turn around again.

"I'm looking forward to it." He says, and then walks off, ridiculous tower of books still in his hands. Steve watches him go, and then takes a deep breath and looks back at the shelf.

How the fuck is he going to focus on studying now?

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[muffled screaming]

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A very loose interpretation of day 4 for @subeddieweek: Dress Up

More like dress down

Could be yesterdays brat Eddie too I suppose

Dunno how able I’ll be to get the rest of the days out this week. Went to the dentist today and I am bolloxed.