#Santa!eddie munson

[eddiesxangel]

Fuck the Nice List| Santa!Eddie x Reader

Smutty Part 2 of Hey, Mr. Claus

Cw smut, Eddie is dressed as Santa for your nieces and nephews and you can’t keep your hands to yourself. Minors DNI

The night was wrapping up as you and all your loved ones were gathered around the Christmas tree at your brothers' house. It was the first Christmas you were spending with your new boyfriend, Eddie, and he wanted to make a good impression on your family. So, he volunteered to dress as Santa for the younger ones. He already had experience from his Mall Santa job and thought it would be a way to get into your family's good books.

You heard a rustling of wrapping and tissue paper as the kids were getting squirmy and anxious to see who was coming around the corner.

“HO HO HO! Merry Christmas!” Eddie belted in his lower register voice when he played the character. As he entered the living room, a sack of presents filled with gifts your family had bought prior was slung around his shoulder.

Many high-pitched cheers of joy pierced your ears as the young ones screamed. They all ran up to Santa Eddie, not knowing it was the man they sat beside at dinner. He had put much effort into his appearance to make it more believable.

His hair was tucked away into his hat that had a long white curly wig underneath it. A long, white, silky beard was attached to his face, and some makeup made him look a bit older and rosie.

Eddie sat and listened to each child on what they wanted, and then he gave them a single gift. He was attentive and aware of how important it was to each child. This would live in their memories forever. The “real” Santa was here just for them on Christmas Eve! What else could they want?

The way Eddie was being so good with the kids of your family was making you feel things. Your heart fluttered in your chest, your palms sweaty, and your lower belly area felt much warmer than it should at a family function. You couldn't wait to get your hands on the man you were falling for.

“When’s it my turn, Mr. Claus?” You bat your eyes at your boyfriend once you are alone.

Your siblings went to get their children ready for bed. Everyone was spending the night at your brothers' house so you could spend Christmas Day together as a family.

“Don’t tell me this is what you’re into, Sugar Plum?” He asked as you walk towards him

“So what if it is? You don’t wanna unwrap me like one of your presents?” You tug at his beard to bring his head down lower to kiss. “I think you’re going to like what’s inside,” you whisper seductively.

“You wanna ride on Santa’s sleigh?” Santa Eddie smirked as you ran your hands up his chest to his shoulders.

“More like his North Pole...”

Eddie groans as he lets his head fall back before grabbing your hand and guiding the both of you to your shared bedroom for the evening.

“I can’t believe you’re going to seduce me into fucking you at your family’s house.” He tugged you into the guest room and shut the door quietly, not to alert the others.

“Oh please, seducing you? All I have to do is breathe, and you want to fuck me,” you laugh before Eddie shuts you up with a searing kiss.

“Get undressed,” Eddie demanded before taking off his suit.

“Wait! Keep that on,” you smirk.

“Oh, so we are doing this?” He points between you and himself.

You bite your lip and nod, letting your dress fall.

Eddie’s eyes went wide as he examined your figure. You had on a matching lacy red set. The push-up bra hugged your breasts, and the panties sculpted your ass to look like the perfect little sugar plum.

Eddie backs up and plops on the edge of the bed without breaking his gaze. He was practically drooling at the sight of you.

“Come on, Snow Angel. Come sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you want for Christmas.” Eddie bites his lip, beckoning you over.

You walk over and straddle Santa Eddie’s lap, draping both legs over his knees, landing your lacy cunt down on his already hardening cock. Eddie grips your ass, and you lean your weight into him.

“I want you to fill me with your cum this Christmas.” You whispered in his ear before nibbling on the lobe.

“Fuuuuuuuck baby you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not? You asked me what I wanted. I’ve been a good girl this year I promise.” You pout.

“I don’t know about that Sugar Plum? I’ve heard from the elf’s that you’ve been naughty.” Eddie bit at your neck as your hips began to grind down in your boyfriend’s lap. “You you’re going to do everything I say to make sure you really are a good girl.”

“Yes, Santa. I’ll do anything to get on your nice list.” You drop your head to kiss Eddie’s plump lips. Well, you at least tried to because the fake beard got in the way.

“Ok, this has to go,” you laugh as Eddie removes the synthetic beard from his face.

“Oh, thank god,” he mumbles before peppering kisses all over your chest and breasts.

“Fucking perfect,” Eddie mumbles as he presses his face into your cleavage and takes in your sent. You smell of cinnamon, ginger and pine needles.

“Mmmmm baby,” you moan as you grip the back of his head, keeping his face in your chest.

“You wanna lick Santa’s special candy cane?” Eddie smirked.

You slinked down his body, and he unbuttoned his suit jacket. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and you couldn’t help but run your hands up and down his naked torso. Your eyes soaked him in as he undid his pants.

“Mmmm, I bet it’s the sweetest.” You ran your hand up and down the tented fabric of his boxers.

“No more teasing. You wanna get on Santa’s nice list, don’t ya? Open up a nice big present tomorrow morning?” Eddie bites his bottom lip.

“Yes, Santa,” you pull his big cock out and give the tip a lick.

“Good girl, good fuckn’ girl.” Eddie stroked your head as you took him entirely into your mouth.

You take as much of him as you can in your mouth before gagging. The weight of his velvety shaft was so soft on your tongue. You loved giving Eddie head; it made you so wet every time without fail.

“Fuck you’re way too good at this. I’m going to bust already,” he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Mmmmmmm,” you hum at the compliment and continue to bob and suck on his cock.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he pulls your head up so he doesn’t explode right then and there. He pulls you up into a deep, long kiss as he goes to lay back on the bed. You followed his lead and hovered over top of him. You graze your sopping clothed cunt over Eddie’s bare cock as you adjust your weight.

Eddie hissed as he felt the pool of wet heat graze his cock. “You wanna take that ride now, baby?” Eddie moaned.

“Yes,” you sigh, and you feel Eddie’s hand pull your panties to the side.

“You gotta work for it, Sugar Plum; show Santa how good you can be,” he cooed as he curled your clit with a gloved finger.

“Fuck” you sigh, and you grind your hips harder on Eddie's cock.

“What did I say about teasing? You naughty little elf,” Eddie gritted out.

“M’sorry Santa, maybe I wanna be your naughty girl.” You continue to grind your hips back and forth from his base to tip.

“That’s it!” Eddie couldn't take it anymore. He flips the two of you over so you’re flat on your back.

“No more playing around. Santa needs his milk and cookies” Eddie ripped your panties right off, and before you knew what was happening, his muscular tongue was entering your wet hole, and his bright red nose was nudging at your clit.

“Fuck baby,” you whispered, trying not to disturb the rest of the house. He sat up and replaced his tongue with two fingers. You’re not even sure when he removed the white gloves.

“Mmm, best cookie I’ve tasted all year,” he mused, and your pussy clenched.

“Oh, you like it when I compliment your cookie, don’t you?” He massaged his fingers inside you, making your hips jerk up.

“Baby, please,” you begged.

“Naughty girls have to wait, baby; only good girls on the nice list get what they want” His thumb curled your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

“Baby fuck, I’m close,” you wined, and Eddie pulled away.

“Oh, she’s learning.”

“Baby I was so close-”

“Naughty girls only get to come when it’s on my cock.” He aligns himself up to your entrance.

“Fuck your so hot.” Eddie leaned down to kiss you. He kissed you hard, and it made your head spin.

Eddie slipped his tongue into your mouth, and at the same time, he slipped in his cock. You never got tired of the way Eddie stretched you out every time. He never failed to make you feel full. He knew how to take over your body. The way he would numb your mind, how he could literally fuck you dumb. You hadn't been together that long with Eddie. Only a month, really, but the way he knows your body, it was like he was made for you.

"Oh, you like that Sugar Plum? Do you like Santa's fat cock splitting you open? I wish you could see it, baby, the way your pussy swallows my cock is perfection." You must have been making noises of pleasure because you were already lost in your own little world of euphoria, and he had just started.

"Answer me, Sugar Plum. Tell me how much you like this cock." his hips slowed down in pace but never stopped. He will wait for your answer.

"I- fuck- I love it-ohhhhhhh," you cried as his head grazed your g spot.

"There's my good girl." Eddie's pace quickened. His hand ran up to massage your breast, still confined by the lacy red bra.

Your pussy clamped down at his words; you loved when he called you his god girl. It never fails to make your body tingle.

As his cock continuously slides against your g spot, your body tenses up at the oncoming orgasm Eddie is about to give you.

"More, please, I'm so close," You beg. You were so close to the euphoria that you would do anything for Eddie now.

"Sucha good girl letting me know. and you know what good girls get?" Eddie continues to thrust into your cunt while reaching down to open your legs up wider for him so that he could rub your clit. The new angle was just what you needed.

You quickly nod to Eddie's question before your body is ripped with a rush of serotonin.

"That's right, baby, they get what they ask for. Come, baby, you're doing so good for me." He talked you through your orgasm.

He followed not too far after you, finishing inside like you had asked. You loved it when Eddie came in you. He'd hug you close as he trusted his hips deep into your body that you felt so connected. Like you were made for one another. It didn't matter if the sex was silly or serious; you knew your souls were meant to be intertwined.

"I didn't know I had that many dirty Christmas analogies in me," Eddie laughed, shucking off the fluffy white and red suit jacket that made him a sweat bucket.

"Any now I have one more in me." you laugh, and Eddie can't help but fall in love with you.

Part 3

tag list: @allthingsjoeq @bettyfrommars @battymunson @onegirlmanytales @slutty-thevampireslayer @leelei1980 @tlclick73 @reidsbtch

[mrsjellymunson]

S.A.N.T.A. BABY

[A.KA. Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-Related Activities]

A Festive 5+1 Eddie Munson Fic

Summary: 5+1. Five times reader embarrasses herself in front of Eddie, and one time she doesn’t.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

WC: ~10.5k (oops)

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, SMUT, NSFW. Strangers to sort-of-enemies to lovers. Drinking, smoking, Eddie and reader call each other nicknames, loads of embarrassing situations, swearing, suggestive language, implied birth control, description of and discussion about a sex toy, flagrant and unnecessary use of the number 69, reader has a tattoo but it’s not essential to the story so you can ignore it if you want, bondage fantasy involving fairy lights, lap riding/dry humping, Eddie has tattoos and intimate piercings, fingering, unprotected p-in-v (always wrap it irl!), aftercare, fluff, the Upside Down hasn’t happened. I imagine reader & Eddie to be mid-late 20s and it might be the 90s, but hopefully I left it ambiguous enough that you can choose. I tried to keep reader’s appearance neutral, though I’m still new at this and I may have missed things - let me know if you spot anything (likewise typos or missed tags, etc). The elf outfit in the pic is for costume illustration only and does not indicate reader’s ethnicity or appearance.

A/N: Written for @bettyfrommars’ & @allthingsjoeq’s festive prompt party (thank you, guys!); I decided to smoosh five prompts 6, 8, 12, 14 & 15 together to create… whateverthehellthismutantthingis 😆 It’s my first 5+1, and my first festive fic, please let me know how I did! 🎄 I’ve taken artistic license with the format - if I’ve understood it, it’s way too long for a standard 5+1, and I don’t think they usually have 4+k of unnecessary smut at the end (‘What do you mean, Kittie? Smut is always necessary!’). I couldn’t bring myself to cut it because I’m a deviant and to paraphrase the song, it’s my fic and I’ll add what I want to 😂 Enjoy! 🥂🍷🎁

Christmas was never your favourite time of year. You suppose that your early Christmasses were probably happy, but once your parents split and family politics came into play, the season just became less enjoyable all round. These days your mom and stepdad tended to use the extended break to visit your brother in California, and this year will be the third in a row that you’ve been left to your own devices. Not that you couldn’t go with them, but you just felt a little out of place and in the way, him with his scrapbook-perfect family and kids, you with your alternative interests and a dress sense that your stepdad once described as, “Far too much black for a family dinner. We’re not the Addams Family, you know”.

This year, though, you were optimistic. It’s your first year away at college in Indianapolis, and your roommate, Robin, who you get on outrageously well with, has invited you to spend the holidays not too far away in her home town, Hawkins.

Plus, Robin has taken it upon herself to, in her words, ‘“Christmas Carol the shit out of you”, after you’d told her about your disdain for the holiday season and that Santa stood for ‘Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-related Activities’. She’d declared that this year you’d have the “Best. Christmas. EVERRR!”, and she’s making good on it, despite the promise being made months ago when you were both soaked in tequila at the end of orientation week.

It’s going fairly well so far. You’ve met a couple of Robin’s friends, a nice girl called Nancy and Robin’s ex Vickie, and together you’ve had a shopping trip, a lunch out and a girls’ night in. You’re optimistic that the rest of her friends will be just as friendly and welcoming. Next on the ‘Best Christmas Ever’ agenda? Seeing a local band at a local bar…

“Honestly, they’re, like, really, really good!”

“Really, Robs? This band that your friends started in high school are so good that they’re still playing dive bars in their home town?”

The bar is dingy and grubby, but it’s packed, Robin insisting it’s because the band is great, but you suspect it has more to do with the cheap beer prices.

You’re not averse to live entertainment, you just prefer places with a bit more space. More ambience, less… sweat? Ambiguous stickiness??

Half a beer in, you make the excuse that you need some air, not admitting you’re actually hoping to find someone to bum a cigarette off outside, feeling your most recent attempt at quitting is already on seriously shaky ground.

There’s already a couple of guys around the side of the building when you exit the front door, one in a torn flannel and another, his back to you, in a heavier-looking jacket.

You recognise Flannel as the bartender, a lanky, but not unattractive, somewhat worried-looking guy with a grungy haircut and ripped Clash t-shirt, who’s just finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the floor. As he leaves to go back inside he offers a cheery half-salute to his smoking partner and a, “See you inside, dude.” You assume the other guy must be a regular, and from the subtle glimpses you get as he flicks his ash, he’s about halfway through his cigarette.

Whilst he’s not looking you sneakily take in the view (your excuse being that you are a tourist here, after all). He’s tall, dressed all in black, with broad shoulders draped in worn-in black leather, long dark curls falling about them. You can’t determine the exact colour in the poor lighting of the bar’s neon sign, but they look shiny and well cared for, rather than lank and grimy like so many of your college buddies seem to think is the fashionable way to do it these days (ugh).

Trailing your eyes down his back, you see the hem of his jacket half-obscures a black leather belt that’s just visible sitting on his slim hips. It’s studded with silver rivets and adorned with a variety of draping silver chains that jingle at the slightest movement.

Well-fitting, dark black jeans cover his legs, and a scruffy pair of heavy black combat boots complete the look. They're unlaced at the top and casually flare out, his jeans crumpling, effortlessly stylishly, in the tops.

The belt chains catch your attention again as he shifts from one foot to the other, making them swing, drawing your eyes to the seat of his jeans and showcasing a cute, tight, rounded pair of butto-oh! He’s turning around! Shit, shit, okay, be cool, and definitely don’t look like you were just checking out his ass…

He looks at you with surprise, he obviously hadn’t heard you come out. He’s taken slightly aback, but manages to greet you with a quick, “Hey.”

You reply, eloquently, “Hey.”

Smooth.

Leather Jacket gets out his lighter.

“You, uh, smokin’?”

“I was kinda hoping to bum one, actually. I’m supposed to be quitting, but you know how it is when you get around bars and booze.”

You shrug a little, suddenly feeling sheepish, and more than a little selfish when you realise your presumption.

“Oh yeah, I sure do. Think I’ve tried quitting about, what, five times now?”

He chuckles a little, shaking a stick out of the packet he retrieves from inside his jacket, offering it to you.

“You need a light?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks.”

He leans in to spark his lighter, and you’re briefly engulfed by the scent of him. Old leather, hints of a musky, spicy cologne, whiskey, clean sweat, and, of course, cigarette smoke. It feels like a warm hug, but something else too, something more primal, enticing.

You notice his hands as he holds his lighter close to your face. They’re big, strong-looking and veined, his fingers adorned with chunky silver rings that glint and twinkle in the faint neon glow.

It all catches you off guard. You pull back quickly once your cigarette is lit, not ready to explore that kind of sensation right now.

He’s turned sideways to you again, leaning his back against the side wall of the bar. He smirks in your direction, a dimple popping in the cheek nearest to you, and you feel a little heat rise up your neck.

His gaze flows over your form, taking you in from top to bottom. Is he checking you out?

“I, uh, I like your boots.” He nods down towards your feet, flicking a little ash from his cigarette off to the side furthest from you.

You automatically glance down, like some kind of idiot who didn’t dress themselves less than an hour ago.

Sheesh, way to make an impression on the locals…

“Oh, thanks!”

You smile, genuinely pleased. You’re wearing your favourite pair, laced and buckled black leather New Rocks with a chunky, steel-coloured metal heel. You know the style doesn’t have universal appeal, which is of course part of the reason you love them, but it’s nice to have your taste appreciated by someone as cu- erm, as friendly as he is.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. You new in town or sumthin’?”

“Yeah, kinda passing through, I guess. I’m just here for the holidays, hookin’ up with a friend.”

He nods in acknowledgment, curls bouncing softly around his face.

You continue, “Apparently I’ve been promised the ‘best Christmas ever’, and they think they’re going to achieve that by bringing me to this divey bar to see some schoolfriend in a lame-ass metal cover band. I mean, god, no offence, but this town is hardly Seattle. I can’t imagine they’re gonna be Nirvana-quality, right?”

The guy snorts through his nose and then genuinely laughs. “Yeah, they probably are shit. Towns like this are full of wannabe rockstars straight outta high school, y’know?” You don’t notice how his lips purse as he suppresses a grin, as he continues, “Singers are the worst, always such assholes. Second only to guitarists, of course.”

You answer with an enthusiastic, “I know, right?!”, thinking back to the musicians you’ve dated since high school and how they were all convinced they were destined to be the next Eddie Van Halen or Steven Tyler. Thinking of a couple of guys in particular as you take a drag of your cigarette, as you exhale you mutter, “Christ, guitarists really are the pits.”

He snorts, smiling again, then drops his finished cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with the sole of his heavy boot. “At least with all their equipment and shit it makes them easy to spot.”

You gift him a smile and a small nod. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“I’m heading back inside. Maybe I’ll see you later?” He quirks an eyebrow at his last comment.

“Yeah, maybe.” As he moves to open the door you add, ”Hey, thanks for the smoke!”

He turns back to you, his distractingly broad grin now fully on display, half-shouting back as he moves through the doorway into the bustling interior, “No problem, all you have to do is ask. I’ll see you later, Boots!”

You finish your smoke and get inside just in time to get to your seat, a tall stool opposite Robin around a high table, your back to the stage, as the band start up.

There’s a few complicated beats from the drums as the guy behind them warms up, and the bass and rhythm guitars thrum a few notes, garnering whistles and cheers from the crowd.

You wait for the cliché of the singer coming up to the mic and introducing the band, but what you actually hear is a low, self-assured, somewhat recognisable voice, that’s both commanding and sultry, that drawls, “You know who we are.”

Suddenly there’s a burst of impressive guitar work and drums, and the crowd erupts as the room is saturated with the opening chords to Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’.

You’re impressed, and intrigued. This isn’t the ‘dodgy 80’s covers schoolkid band’ you were expecting. These guys sound… accomplished.

You turn on your stool, and notice a subtly familiar form at the mic. Less bulky as he’s no longer wearing the leather jacket, a ripped band tee now showing off his pale arms and clavicles, and black ink that you can’t make out adorning solid biceps and veined forearms. Guitar in hand, confident, brash, cute. Chains dangling from a studded belt, silver rings glinting, hair flying as he flicks his head, commanding the stage, readying himself to sing the first lines…

Oh shit…

The band’s cover of ‘War Pigs’ is faster than the original, and they give it their own twist, making it heavier and grittier. After the (irritatingly brilliant) guitar solo Leather Jacket Band Guy even throws in a few lines from Deck The Halls, the audience going wild, and joining in enthusiastically when the ‘Oh Lord yeah’ is replaced with a ‘Fa-la-la’.

The rest of their set is a mix of covers and originals, all in a similar, heavy style, and as they finish to a rapturous throng you realise, flustered, that you couldn’t tear your eyes from the stage the whole time. Robin totally notices. You even let her get in a cheery, “Told ya so!”, as you reluctantly admit they weren’t completely terrible.

You spot the frontman (singer and guitarist, cue internal facepalm) jump down off the low stage, and you feel a little uneasy as you see him start heading in your direction.

You’re at peak embarrassment and can’t bear the thought of having to face him after what you said outside. You hadn’t even heard them play and you dissed the fuck out of them, him specifically. What makes it worse is that they were actually really good. The last thing you need is to have that thrown back in your face, in front of Robin, by their cocky lead guy.

Suddenly you want Spontaneous Human Combustion to be a real thing, turn you to ash so your only presence would be scuffed up on those heavy, unlaced combat boots, going unnoticed and carried out on everyone’s soles into the chilly night. But science and physics are apparently not willing to defy themselves for you this evening. Bastards.

Quickly, you get off your stool, mumbling something about needing the bathroom, and head off in a random direction, in your haste to escape not even asking where it is.

You chance a glance over one shoulder. Oh god, he’s heading straight for you…

As you stumble about in the crowd, you notice a free seat next to a guy at the bar. You hardly register that his coiffed hair and polo shirt don’t quite fit the vibe of the place, so desperate are you to build an alternative narrative that doesn’t involve the guy whose band you just dissed coming to talk to you. You’d said you were visiting a friend, he’s not to know it wasn’t a boyfriend, right? If he sees you with someone he’ll back off and leave you alone, right?? Surely he wouldn’t confront you with a potential Defending Your Honour™️ fight on the table. Right???

So, that’s the plan.

A really good, foolproof one? Um, no. But Band Guy is moving through the crowd, and you’ve gotta do something, fast.

You reach the bar.

“Hey, could you do me a favour real quick? A creepy guy’s been hitting on me, and I need to give him the message that I’m not interested. If I buy you a drink, will you act like you’re my boyfriend for, like, the next 30 seconds?”

He turns to you, and you notice his features. Golden skin, chiselled jaw, stunning hazel eyes, hair to rival the hottest supermodels’, a scattering of moles that look like constellations. Goddamn, he’s pretty. What is it with this bar? Is everyone inside it cute? Why have you never been to Hawkins before??

You give him a pleading look, and tentatively hold out one hand towards where his is resting on his thigh, hoping he’ll take it.

“Well, for a sweet thing like you, how could I say no to that tempting double offer?”

He smiles then, full and beaming, and you almost slip off your stool. A warm palm comes to cup over yours, and you manage to blurt out an order to the barman, saying, “Two of whatever he’s having.”

Just then, Band Guy reaches you. You do your best to swoon at Polo Shirt as your drinks get delivered, lifting yours and clinking it against his with a, “Hey, sweetheart, thanks for bringing me here”.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here with someone tonight.”

“Yeah, this is the friend I was telling you about. We’re spending the holidays together. Isn’t that right, sweets?”

Band Guy purses his lips, you hope in consternation, but it’s whatever, you just want him to leave you alone to stew in your mortification.

He backs up half a step, saying, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Success!

Just as you think your devious plan has worked, Band Guy turns to Polo Shirt, slaps his open palm against his shoulder a couple of times, and saunters off, with a, “Nice to see you, Steve-o. Just checkin’ you're wanting a lift back in the van with the guys, like usual?”

Oh. Oh god. They know each other?!

He turns away, smirking back briefly in your direction to fling a casual, “I’ll see you around, Boots”, before continuing his path to the other end of the bar. You see him greet Flannel with a high five followed by a bro handshake, the latter making exaggerated air guitar movements and clearly congratulating him on a great performance.

If cringing caused bodily trauma you’d be in the ER by now, most likely on life support. What are the chances of embarrassing yourself all to hell in front of a cute guy you’ve only just met, twice in one night?

Also, wait, you totally didn’t just admit that you find him cute. Nope. No siree. Nah. Niet. Definitely not.

Stupid Robin convinced you to take this stupid job in the stupid mall and now you’re stuck here smiling this stupid smile at all the stupid local kids in this stupid elf costume.

Stupid striped tights, stupid short skirt, stupid tight green tunic, stupid fluffy collar.

And yeah, okay, stupid self-induced hangover from stupid drinks last night thanks to stupid Robin’s stupid friends. Actually, they were all really nice, especially ‘Steve-o’ and the barman, Jonathon, neither of whom mentioned your embarrassing faux pas with Band Guy, which makes them total heroes in your book. Plus, Band Guy mercifully gave you a wide berth for the rest of the night by doing Band Stuff™️, so that was a win too.

At least the dress code for this gig stated ‘black footwear’, so you could wear your own boots. You’d never admit it out loud, but you think the combination of the red and white striped tights with your chunky, alternative boots actually looks kinda cute. It’s just as well, because you’d packed light (you and Robin joking that so long as you had your ”Pills and panties” you were good to go), and hadn’t brought any alternatives.

You’ve been at this for a couple of days already, beaming artificially at the kids as you try to corral them into some semblance of an organised line, and handing out stickers and treat bags for the ones who’ve seen Santa, putting your best singsong voice on as you ask for what feels like the millionth time, “So, what did you ask Santa for?”, and, “Have you been good this year?”

Your face has begun to ache with the effort of all the smiling, although the cheery mall Santa (a big, friendly guy called John? Jack?) takes up most of the slack, with a voice deep and gravelly enough to control even the worst-behaved little shits. You hope his day job uses it, it would be a shame for a voice like that to go to waste. He should probably be in sports, or acting, or law enforcement or something.

You can’t deny the money is coming in handy though. It’s reliably supporting your holiday booze habit, and you’ve even treated yourself to a couple of Christmas treats, some silver skull jewellery from a surprisingly well-stocked accessory shop, and something more, um, personal from the ‘specialist interest’ shop you’d found hidden away at the back of the mall’s upper level. The nice lady who worked there, Karen, even kindly offered to drop off your purchase at your staff locker later today.

You’re on the later shift, so Santa’s already here, and as you make your way out to the grotto area (which is essentially just a few old stage props surrounded by a few giant polystyrene candy canes; you surmise this might be one of the first years they’ve done this) you’re greeted by a predictable, “Ho ho ho!”. But today it’s a different voice than usual. Still deep, still booming, but not the one you’re used to.

As you round the glittery candy cane on the corner, the deep baritone gives way to a much higher, cheekier pitch.

“Ho, ho- hoooooly shiiit, I’d recognise those boots anywhere!”

Oh no… It can’t be…

“Heeey, Boots! I didn’t know you’d be one of my little helpers today!”

Even behind the fake beard you can see the smugness spread across his face.

You stop in your tracks, hands coming up to your face in a vain attempt to shield your embarrassed self from the impending, and, you’ll admit, completely justified, teasing.

Realising you can’t hide from it, you huff out a breath and amble over to him. He looks way too comfortable sitting on that ornate throne, like he’s used to such a position, somehow…

As you move closer you see that even beneath the tacky acrylic costuming, he still looks cute (damn him). He’s foregone the white wig and opted to display his own locks, chestnut curls cascading over his shoulders, and the white faux fur of his hat and beard create a subtle frame around his eyes. You observe their colour properly for the first time, and even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the mall they look like swirling pools of liquid cacao, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything quite like them before. They’re fixed on you as you walk to him.

You plonk down on a fabric-covered hay bale next to the throne. There’s no line of kids waiting as yet, and you’re relieved you can get this next part done without too much of an audience. Deep breath, pull off the bandaid, or whatever that stupid phrase is.

“Listen, about last night. I’m really sorry. I not only stole your smokes but also dissed your band before I’d even heard you, and that wasn’t cool. And that thing with Steve at the bar? God, you must think I’m such a loser. And, I know you probably couldn’t give two pebbly shits about what I think right now, but you guys are actually really good.”

He turns to you, looking down his nose and through his lashes at you.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, sweets. I did kinda bait you into that first part. And at the bar? That was… creative. I actually thought it was pretty funny.” Smirking, nodding and turning his face to the front again, he continues, “And for the record, we do play other places, not just this so-not-Seattle town.”

You risk a glance at him. The Santa suit is obviously too big for him, the collar wide enough to show off his pale throat for a moment before he turns back to you and the comically-fluffy beard obscures it again. You can see the outline of his taut, muscular thighs under the loose faux velvet of his pants, and his boots (those boots) are worn just like they were last night, unlaced at the top, casually stylish, the red fabric pooling around the calf and ankle. And to finish it off, there’s what appears to be a large throw cushion stuffed down his front.

It turns out he’s covering for (Jim!) Hopper, who’s apparently the local police chief (nailed it) and has been called out to check on some weird occurrences at an old research facility on the other side of town.

Band Guy Santa continues, sarcastically, “Pfft. Providing the town of Hawkins with security and safety instead of performing the frankly, essential, public service of dicking about in a Santa suit. Inconsiderate, right?”

“Yeah, totally”, you giggle.

“The organisers heard from Hop that I was somewhat… theatrical, so they asked me to fill in.”

You remember how theatrical he looked whilst on stage, and you feel your throat heat up, hoping he won’t notice you subtly pulling at your collar with a finger, or see the perspiration appearing on your décolletage.

“So, you may wreak your revenge now, sweetheart. I’m not exactly in a position to defend my sartorial choices right now, am I?”, he says as he gestures to himself, sweeping a palm up and down his garb. “Gimme your worst.”

You’d feel pretty bad if you laid into him now, not only considering your own current garb but especially with what you’d said last night outside the bar. However, he is giving you an opportunity to even the score for his manipulation, and it would be a shame not to take it. You decide upon a combination of cheekiness and diplomacy. (And not flirty. Definitely not flirty.)

“I dunno, that beard covers most of your face, which obviously does you some favours. But don’t do yourself down, you look… good in red.”

He swallows as you stand to move away from him, and you hardly realise that you’ve rendered him speechless, as you joke, poking at the obvious cushion by his middle,

“Although, I’m totally not buying this padding, you know,”

Suddenly a party of schoolchildren appears from nowhere, and before they get between you and you get too far away to hear, he stammers out, “Uh, I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You half-yell your own name back, adding with a smile,

“It’s nice to meet you. Have fun today, Santa.”

It’s late afternoon and Santa Eddie is on his regulation break. You’re doing your best to herd the over-sugared, post-school crowd into some kind of order, when Mrs Santa (a lovely lady called Claudia) calls your name and says you can go on your break now too, if you want, and to please tell Santa that he needs to get back here and start doling out Christmas wishes.

You jump at the chance for even just a few minutes away from the diminutive hoards (though you could listen to Erica, one kid you do like, diss commercialism and the ethics of lying to kids en masse all afternoon), and make your way to the locker room.

Eddie’s still there, sitting on the central bench, beard pulled down under his chin, and he appears to be holding a package in his hands, though from the look on his face you don’t think it was one he was expecting. As you move closer and peer into the box, you spy the contents, and a bright red, glittery shape becomes visible.

Oh god, no. No-no-noooo…

It’s the order you placed from the shop at the back of the mall, but Karen’s obviously dropped it off next to the wrong locker - Eddie’s is number 69 and yours is 96.

It’s a dildo (of course it is). A Christmas-themed, flexible, long, thick, glittery, red dildo, with a gold lamé ribbon tied artfully around the base.

Eddie’s face is a picture of surprise as he turns to look up at you, eyes and mouth wide and eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. He’s holding the packaging, your name visible on the wrapping, nixing any hope you’d had of feigning innocence and pretending you knew nothing about it.

“Uh, I think this is yours. I’m so sorry. I-it was left by my locker and I opened it assuming it was for me, and then I saw your name on it, but by then it was too late…”

He sees you slump down into the bench a few feet away from him, face in your hands. You don’t know him well, but you decide to let him get whatever he wants to say out of his system rather than potentially make everything worse by trying to get him to shut the hell up.

His tone is mocking, but not exactly mean, as he continues,

“It’s a pretty one, really. Y’know, festive. I admire your choice of aesthetics and commitment to the season.

But you know, Boots, if you wanted to feel special inside this Christmas, all you had to do was ask.

Wait, do you also have an Easter-themed one? Is it a rabbit?”

He’s turned to face you now, far too pleased with himself for that final quip. Arrogant bastard.

The tears come in a wave, and you fold in on yourself, trying to hide your face even more. The heat in your cheeks feels about the same temperature as the colour of that fucking dildo.

“Hey, hey. I was only kidding.” He scootches closer to you on the bench. ”Look, there’s nothing wrong with it. Everyone deserves pleasure, it’s healthy. And I get it, Boots, it can be hard for girls to find a guy who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing. And, maybe you don’t even want or need a guy, you just want some special time by yourself, right?”

There’s a short pause, like he could be considering his next choice of words.

“And anyway, I actually think it’s kinda hot…”

This surprises you. You’ve never met any guy who didn’t take the presence of your toy collection as a personal insult.

You risk a glance in his direction, hoping your wet and stinging eyes don’t look as red as they feel. “You really think so?”

“Oh yeah”, he responds, crossing his legs as subtly as he can, shielding his lap. “The one you chose? It’s… sophisticated. The glitter gives it a real nice touch. And,” he drops his voice a little, continuing in an almost-whisper, “I’d love to see what you do with it.” He clears his throat and looks away, finding a convenient patch of plain wall to focus his gaze upon.

Confused, upset, and unable to fathom exactly what’s going on (is this just banter? Or is he flirting? Wait, does he like you??) you grab the box from him and move to stuff it in your locker. Trying to hide the crack in your voice, you call over your shoulder, “Claudia says your break’s over and to get your jolly ass back out there, pronto.”

Oh shit… shitshitSHIT…

Stupid collar, stupid faux fur, stupid cheap zips! Goddammit!

You’re at your locker - the one that should’ve secretly contained your special Xmas gift to yourself - trying to get out of your stupid elf costume, but the zip won’t budge. The top of it is enmeshed amongst the stupid faux fur of your collar, and your frustrated, unsighted and fumbling ministrations appear to be making it worse.

You need help. An empathic soul to come to your aid and diligently untangle you from this costuming hell. But there’s only one other person here, and, even though your last encounter ended better than it could have, he’s still the last person you want to see right now.

Why tonight? Of all nights? How could this happen on the one night where the literal only person left in the entire fucking building is him??

You can only assume you’re on the real Santa’s shit list. Were you really that naughty this year?

Your brain rewards you with a brief, but telling, synopsis of your year so far: smoking blunts behind the library with Robin during study breaks, skinny dipping in a freezing lake on a dare, all that tequila, that brief foray in the back of a Camaro with that guy (Bobby? Billy?). Okay, you were no saint, but this? Come on…

Dejectedly, you drop your chin to your chest and let out a frustrated huff.

Looking miserable, and literally dragging your heels, you shuffle back out to the grotto, steeling yourself for whatever mocking banter Eddie will subject you to this time.

He’s leisurely rearranging the grotto area, and fiddling with the fairy lights behind.

“Hey, Boots. What’re you still doing here?”

Still not looking up, and flicking your eyes everywhere but in his direction, you mumble,

“I, uh, I need your help.”

“What is it? C’mon, you can tell me. We’re quite intimately acquainted now, wouldn’t you say?“

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you want to slap it right off his face. Your response comes out in a rush.

“MyzipisstuckandIcan’tgetoutofthisfuckingcostume, okay?”

“Well, honestly, if you want me to undress you, all you have to do is ask…”

There’s annoyance in your voice as you spit out, “For fuck’s sake Eddie, are you gonna help me or not?”

“Of course, Boots, I’m just messin’ with ya.” His voice drops to an almost-rumble as he instructs, “Turn around for me, yeah?”

His voice is commanding, yet soft and velvety. Parts of your brain turn to marshmallow, and you consider that you’d do almost anything he asked, if he asked you like that.

You do as he requests, your back facing him. You tilt your head down slightly, allowing him better access to the top of the zip, inadvertently also exposing the back of your neck.

He exhales (is it a bit shaky?), and you feel the heat of his breath on your nape, the sensation raising goosebumps along your spine and worrying your legs a little. It’s all you can do to not drop to your knees right there and then. You let out a tiny gasp and try to cover it with a deep swallow.

Eddie works gently on the collar of your garment, fiddling with the fur and disentangling what he can. As he works you continue to feel his breath on your neck, and you wonder if he has any idea what it’s doing to you.

Seemingly satisfied he won’t make it any worse than it already is, Eddie grasps the tag with his fingertips and places the palm of his other hand on your shoulder blade, the heat of it radiating through you so intensely that you have to scrunch your eyes closed and try to ground yourself.

With a quiet, “You ready?”, Eddie begins to slowly lower the zip.

It dislodges under his delicate touch, and although the zip is now completely free-moving he continues to pull it downwards ever so slowly. You feel another frisson of excitement, and even though you could at this stage probably quite easily take over and get out of the garment yourself, you don’t move away.

As the opening reaches your shoulder blades, you feel something else. It’s featherlight, barely there, but you think you can feel the knuckle of one of Eddie’s bent fingers brushing the skin of your back as he pulls the zipper slowly downwards.

Part of you thinks you should be freaked, after all an almost-complete stranger is touching you without your consent, but somehow it doesn’t feel weird. It feels… nice. Safe. Right.

The lower the zip goes the more of Eddie’s breath you feel on your back, and as the sides separate the edges of the colourful tattoo on your shoulder blade become visible.

Eddie's breath stutters at the sight, and as his knuckle passes over your bra strap and connects again with your lower spine you abruptly shake yourself out of your reverie.

Clutching the front of your tunic to your body, you move quickly away from him, stumbling back towards the locker room and mumbling, “I’ll take it from here. Thanks Eddie, you’re a lifesaver.”

Plonking yourself down on the bench in front of your open locker, you take a few deep breaths, trying to centre yourself before you get changed and wondering how on earth you’re going to be able to face him again tomorrow, the (yes, you’ll admit it now) hottest Santa you’ve ever seen...

Back in your own clothes (black, wide-gauge fishnets, an old tee from a punk band that no longer exists, and a flared black skirt - much better) you’re about to scurry out with your head down when you hear muffled grunts and groans from the main floor. What on earth is going on out there?

You amble back out to the grotto area, trying to appear nonchalant and like this is your usual route out of the building.

You see Eddie’s combat boots sticking out from behind a pile of fake snowballs. They seem to be twitching.

You move closer until you can see his entire form. He’s lying on his back, immobile, completely tangled in fairy lights. You can’t help but start to giggle, not least because for the first time since meeting him it’s he who’s the one in a compromising position.

He’s struggling, likely making it worse, and he starts as he sees you, barking out, “Oh god, Boots, you scared me! Well, laugh it up, fuzzball, I guess it’s your turn to rag on me now.”

“What on earth happened? Are you hurt?”

“I said I’d help rearrange these lights, so I was up that ladder, moving them around, when the rung gave way. The lights were the only thing I could grab for when I span, fell, and, well, here we are!”

He gives you a broad but sarcastic grin, realising the absurdity of his predicament, trying to spread out his palms in a jazz hands kind of illustration but only managing to do it with one, the other trapped at his belt line by a string of dazzling pink lights.

“Um, you need a hand?”

“Uh, yes please.”

You take a moment to appraise the situation. You see the broken ladder, the tangled piles of lights, scuffed-up fake grass and unruly piles of snowballs.

As for Eddie, he seems unharmed, if a little bruised in the ego (and, perhaps, the elbows). He’s still wearing the Santa suit. Well, most of it. He still has on the hat for some reason, and the trousers, but he’s discarded the beard and jacket, presumably for reasons of temperature regulation or ease of movement, and his ‘belly’ cushion is nowhere to be seen.

And his top half? Well, his top half is now adorned only in a tight, white tank top.

You swallow as you take in his torso. He looked good on stage that night at the bar, but you never really got to see him this close up. Or this well lit.

His skin is almost as pale as the fake snow that litters the area, but there’s a creaminess to it that just makes him look, well, edible is the only word you can think of. Apart from ’lickable’. Yep, that would work too…

He’s solid, well defined, but he’s not stocky. You imagine that years of carrying amps and band equipment around has toned his muscles rather than bulked them.

And the tattoos… Oh. God.

You’ve always had a thing for people with alternative tastes, but this guy takes the cake. Swirling black ink in a variety of designs and styles covers his pecs and biceps, with smaller but no less elaborate designs adorning his forearms.

You notice a subtle glint under the colourful strings of lights that enwrap him, and spot that one of his nipples is pierced, the ring of metal just barely visible through the taut fabric.

Your eyes drift to his hands (those same hands that entranced you that first night), and although there’s no rings tonight (you guess ‘Badass Santa’ wasn’t the version on the mall’s wish list) his hands are no less attractive, still strong-looking and veiny, and you spot a number of small finger tats that you hadn’t been aware of before.

His position and the fact that he’s still struggling mean his abs are tensed, with his forearms are in front of him, making them, and his shoulders, really pop.

Jeezus.

Your thighs clench and you feel a heat bloom in your core.

He notices you staring, and for a moment seems to revel in it, but eventually breaks you out of your trance, asking, “You gonna help me get out of this, or what?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, um, lemme just…”

You decide to start at his feet, reasoning that’s where the tangles are the least bad, and at least if his feet are free he’ll be able to sit up.

That decision has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’d like to see him sitting, bound, tied up for you, naked…

Shit. Fuck. Concentrate…

Eventually you free him from the majority of his confines, your fingertips and the backs of your hands brushing his skin and the fabric of his clothes occasionally. As he’s able to sit up, his hair tickles you as you work, his scent invades you all over again, and the two of you share glances and timid little chuckles as you move around him, both aware that you’re closer than you’ve been before.

Eventually he’s completely freed, and as he stands and steps out of the final loop of lights he flops exhaustedly backwards into his golden throne, eyeing the pile of entangled lights and running a hand over his face, mumbling, “Shit, there’s no hope for them tonight. I’ll deal with it all in the morning.”

You stand to the side of the throne, wanting to check he’s ok, and in a bold move that you weren’t expecting he lifts one arm and takes the tips of your first two fingers in his, gently raising your hand in a silent instruction to come closer.

Mirroring your earlier comment, he says, “Thanks, Boots. You’re a real lifesaver”, adding, with a hand against his forehead, “I would’ve been here all night, could’ve starved to death. They'd've found my mummified remains in the morning.”

You find yourself stepping towards him, and with your free hand try to give his pec a playful slap, murmuring, “You’re so dramatic. No, wait, theatrical!”

The slap fails though, as he rapidly brings his other hand up to the back of yours, trapping your palm against his chest. You can feel the heat of his skin, the slight sheen of sweat just noticeable as your fingertips breach the low neckline of his top, the heavy thud of his heartbeat.

You don’t realise how close you’ve become, and you gasp as your knees touch the side of his. He gently grabs the hand that’s on his chest and pulls it to his side, and to stop yourself from toppling forwards you have to step around him, ending up standing astride his legs.

Your eyes lock, and something changes. For a long moment neither of you move, and you feel your breathing rate speed up.

Not breaking eye contact, Eddie slowly moves your arm up to his shoulder, and you find yourself climbing onto the throne with him, straddling his thighs.

He breaks out that low, rumbling voice again, as he murmurs,

“That’s it, Boots, come sit on Santa’s lap.”

As you lower down onto him, you feel the heat of his thighs through your thin tights, and then the contrast of the chill of your metal-coated heels against the backs of yours.

You also feel something bloom in the pit of your stomach. And further down. A warmth, heat, need.

Eddie moves one hand to hold the back of your waist, pulling you gently, moving you further up his lap towards him.

You feel the unmistakable bulge of his arousal between your thighs, and as he moves you closer you gasp as you feel it nudge your mound.

You look at each other for another long moment, aware that this is very new territory. His eyes flick between your eyes and your lips, as he asks, quietly, “Is- is this okay?”

It’s all too much and simultaneously not enough. You definitely weren’t expecting any of this, but at the same time you find yourself desperately nodding, needing more of him, of Eddie.

You answer by slowly rolling your hips lightly against him, your lips parting slightly.

The few layers of fabric between you aren’t enough to dull the sensation of his cock pushing against your centre, and you feel it gradually pressing between your folds, your growing slick making the movements easier.

Suddenly, his bulge nudges your sensitive bud.

You gasp again at the sensation, making Eddie exhale a long low, warm breath over your torso, before he speaks again.

“Boots, can I kiss you?”

You take a breath, considering how this could all go. You could walk away now (albeit with shaky legs and damp thighs) and leave any possible awkwardness or complicated entanglement in favour of a simple, uncomplicated holiday with your friend.

But then you look into his eyes again, as his hips gently buck and nudge you once more, and your decision is made.

Breathing out, you reply,

“Fuck yeah, Santa.”

Wearing a soft, sly smile, he gently brings one hand to the back of your head, bringing you to him as he moves forwards, chocolate eyes roaming your face, scanning your eyes and lips.

Noses bumping and lips millimetres apart, he pauses for a moment before closing the gap, pressing his soft, plush lips to yours. They feel divine, soft and velvety, and this close you can smell everything him now, with the subtle addition of something faintly minty.

You kiss him back, and then you both press forward harder, parting your lips at the same moment, the tips of your tongues touching and dancing before sliding past each other and deepening the kiss, your teeth bumping gently and hot breaths mingling.

It’s wet, hot and needy, your hands grasping his shoulders, and his arms pulling you closer to him.

The rolling of your hips gradually becomes stronger and more forceful, and he bucks harder up into you. You need more. Breaking the kiss for air, you take a couple of lungfuls, toying with the drawstring on his red pants before asking, bold and more than a little cheeky,

“How are you feeling? Still entangled? Do you need a hand getting out of these, too?”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m feeling very… entrapped, kinda claustrophobic. Might be in shock from such a traumatic experience. I might need to loosen my clothing a bit, y’know, for medical reasons.”

You give him a smirk, and untie the cords. Raising up on your knees slightly, you slide your thumbs hands into the waistband of those and his fitted, black boxers (fuck, is there anything about this guy that isn’t sexy?). He quickly takes the hint, lifting his hips off of the throne and allowing you to move his garments down to his thighs.

As you work his member gets caught on the elastic of his boxers, and as it releases from the fabric it springs back onto his abdomen with an audible slap. You can’t help but look, and you’re not disappointed. It’s pleasantly, but not overly, big, thick and veiny, curved slightly and with a large flared head. The tip is shiny and pinky-red, and as you stare it twitches away from his body and a tiny bead of precum leaks from the tip. You’re surprised, but also delighted, to spot a shining pair of steel balls decorating a frenum piercing, and that there’s a few pretty dot and line work tattoos near the base.

It’s beautiful. You want to tell him so, but he grabs you and pulls you in for another deep, passionate kiss, his length trapped between your bodies, hot and pulsing.

You melt into the kiss, tongues slipping and sliding, lips rubbing, noses smooshed against each other and enjoying it for as long as you can both do without air.

Needing another deep inhale, and also wanting to get your hands on his delightful cock, you sit up again, slipping one hand between you and grasping at his length. Eddie hisses, then moans,

“Oh, Boots, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You enjoy the feeling of him in your hand for a few moments, relishing the heat and hardness, before you position the palm of your hand behind his cock and push your centre towards him again, trapping his length between your hand and belly.

More thrusts of his hips moves him between you, your slightly adjusted position now pressing him firmly between your clothed folds, his cock dragging the fabric across your clit. You can’t help but let out a high whine, and you feel his cock twitch again.

“Too much fabric. Wanna feel you.”

His voice is gruff, desperate, wanting.

You lean back a little, resting one hand on the arm of the throne, keeping your other hand wrapped around his cock. You’re not sure you ever want to let it go.

His hands move from your ass to your thighs, running over them and squeezing. When he reaches the part exposed by your lifted skirt he growls, feeling the skin of your hips and belly through the mesh of your tights.

Suddenly, his chin dips and he gives you an almost evil grin. His eyes remain connected with yours as the tip of his tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth as he pushes some of his fingertips through the holes, grabs tightly and pulls.

You freeze as the sound of snapping fabric echoes around the grotto, cool air now gracing your belly and inner thighs. You gasp, not only at his actions but because you packed light and don’t have any other tights with you. But as Eddie’s thumbs trace up to the crease of your thighs, dangerously close to your heated core, all thoughts of packing and capsule wardrobes are erased. You want, no, need him to touch you.

With a smirk, you say, “Please touch me, Santa. I promise I’ve been such a good girl this year.”

His jaw goes slack and he looks at you in awe. You notice how black his eyes have become, the beautiful chocolate hues all but obscured.

He flicks his gaze to your core, black satin panties with lace edging fully on display. He runs one thumb pad up your very centre, feeling the smooth, silky fabric, your heat, the dampness that’s already apparent.

“Christ, baby, is this all for me?”

“All for you, Santa. I’m pretty sure you’ve been a bad boy this year, but you deserve a treat anyway.”

His eyes flick to yours again briefly, his lips curling into a lascivious smirk, before returning to the beautiful display between your legs. He hooks his thumb around one lace edge and, much more gently than he handled your tights, moves the soaked satin to one side.

With a tenderness and reverence that you’ve never experienced before, Eddie parts your folds with his thumb and runs it delicately from your wet lips all the way up to your clit. His eyes are fixed there, jaw slack, and you genuinely think he might drool.

As he connects with your sensitive bud you keen above him, eyes closing and head rolling back.

“That’s the spot, huh?”

You come back to look at him, and manage to breathe out, with a lilting giggle, “Fuck, yes.”

He moves his thumb in a small circle, and your mouth falls open in an O, your brows furrowing slightly.

“You want me to keep going, Boots? All you have to do is ask…”

You’re lost, gone, away in space, and you don’t have the capacity to chide him for his cheek. All you can manage is a breathy, “Please Eddie, please keep going.”

His thumb speeds up slightly and he gradually and gently increases the pressure, and you can feel the coil in your belly tightening already. Fuck, he’s good at this.

Your hand remains clamped around his dick, squeezing it occasionally, his hips rutting up into your fist at a leisurely pace as he watches you fall apart on his lap.

He moves his other hand from where it’s been resting on your hip, and, widening his thighs slightly to create space beneath you, brings the tips of his index and middle fingers to your hole. You’re sopping wet and swollen, lips almost sucking him in just from the slightest touch.

He looks to your face again as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You manage a rapid, shallow head nod and a, “M-hm”, and he slowly plunges two fingers into you, scissoring them and generating a low groan from you, which in turn causes a harsher snap from his hips.

“Jeezus, Boots, you make the most delicious sounds, wish I could record them, listen to them on a loop. Fucking hell.”

“Maybe you can, you’re a musician after a-all…”

That’s the last thing you can say for a while, the combination of Eddie’s smirk, his talented fingers pumping in and out of you, his glorious thumb movements, the feel of his cock in your hand and his hips bucking beneath you all conspire to bring you to your peak.

You grip the arm of the throne hard, nails denting the pile on the velvety fabric. Your eyes close and your vision goes black before becoming a thousand tiny fairy lights, a firework igniting in your core and spreading throughout your body in the most delicious waves as you spasm around Eddie’s fingers.

You don’t notice you’ve been groaning until your senses return, and you feel a slight roughness in your throat. Eddie continues his movements, though slower, and helps you ride out your aftershocks as you pant on his lap.

Only when you start to twitch in discomfort does he remove his thumb from your clit. He slowly pulls his fingers from inside you, and to your surprise brings them up to his lips, pushing them fully inside his mouth and sucking greedily, closing his eyes and humming at your taste. Popping them out with a wet smack, he says,

“My god, Boots. You taste better than sugar cookies and cotton candy combined.”

Your arms feel suddenly weak, and you flop forwards, forehead on Eddie’s collarbone. You feel his warm, broad palm on your back, rubbing gently, soothing you.

“Y’okay there, sweetheart?”

You manage a little squeak, and mumble a tiny, “Mmph, yeaaah…”, as he chuckles lightly.

After a few moments you sit up a little, gazing into Eddie’s blown chocolate eyes through an endorphin haze, and you notice your cheeks are tense, in what must be, given Eddie’s somewhat lovesick expression, a goofy smile.

You realise you’re still holding on to his dick, and give it an experimental squeeze, to test whether your muscles are responding to signals from your brain (yeah, that’s definitely the only reason…). Eddie’s hips buck up, and you sneak a look down to see more precum leaking from the tip. You gather some with your thumb, circling it gently over his slit.

Eddie inhales with a hiss. His strong arm around your back goes to pull you in for another kiss, as his other hand reaches up to the hat atop his head, pulling it off and discarding it amongst the tangled fairy lights.

You move towards him for a deep kiss, releasing the grip on his member and running your hands around his (surprisingly muscular and delicious) neck and into the hair at the base of his skull, tangling your fingers into the curls and tugging gently, earning you another moan.

Shifting your hips along his thighs, you press your soaking folds against Eddie’s turgid cock, and the combination of sensations causes Eddie to break the kiss and emit a loud, low groan. His arms tighten around your torso and he moves his warm mouth down your jaw and neck with wet kisses, then lightly bites the top of your shoulder.

You sigh, knowing what you want.

“You ever fuck an elf, Santa?”

Eddies still mouthing at your collarbone as he mutters into your warm skin,

“Goddammit, you’re incredible.”

You move backwards slightly and Eddie takes the opportunity to reach behind him, grabbing the back of his tank top and dragging it off, dropping it carelessly to the side of the throne to join the lights and his hat.

Fuck, his chest is glorious too.

Bringing a little of your lower lip between your teeth, you run your palms down his solid torso. You want the opportunity to play with that nipple ring and examine each and every one of his tattoos, but right now there are more pressing desires on your mind.

He lets out a shaky breath as you brush his abs with your fingertips, shift your position and line up his swollen head with your eagerly awaiting hole.

“You sure about this, Boots?”

You look up at him, at his blown dark eyes and pink, kiss-bitten, shiny lips, and quirk an eyebrow as you run your fingers into his hair and murmur, “Oh yeah, Eddie. I want you to make me feel… special inside.”

He gasps as you angle your hips and sink down, pushing the head of his cock inside of you, gradually taking his thick length.

He kisses your lips once more, humming, as you acclimatise to his girth, then grins lasciviously as he thrusts his hips upwards, filling you completely. You’re close enough that the moans you let out mingle together and your breaths become shared, eyes locked and mouths agape.

You roll your hips, sliding Eddie’s length in and out of you at a gentle pace. You can feel every ridge and vein as he enters and pulls out, and you’re sure you can feel his frenum piercing dragging against your walls.

You can tell he’s holding back, consciously stilling his own hips and allowing you to set the pace. But this doesn’t last long.

Voice gravelly and ragged with lust, Eddie mumbles,

“Shit, baby, I gotta move. I wanna fuck you so bad, Boots. You gonna let me fuck you?”

Mouth close to his ear, you breathe out a small, “Please”.

It’s all he needs.

Grabbing your ass and squeezing hard but not harshly, Eddie pulls you down onto him as he thrusts up from below. His pace is ruthless as he lifts and drops you, matching his rhythm as he grunts and mumbles incoherent curses. You can’t make out much, but you do hear,

“Fuck, baby, you feel so divine, taking me so well, Jeezus Christ.”

Fuck, he feels amazing.

You remember his cock tattoos, and imagine how they might look, shiny and covered with your slick, disappearing in and out of your glossy lips.

This image, combined with a particularly hard snap of Eddie’s hips causing him to angle slightly differently and start to nudge that special place inside of you, causes you to let out a loud gasp, and your mouth drops open as you try to form a sentence.

“Oh fuck Eddie, I’m- I’m…”

“You gonna cum all over Santa, pretty girl?”

He continues thrusting at that delicious angle and you feel your legs start to tremble.

“Fuck! Y-yes, ye-ess!”

Heat building in your core, you just about hear Eddie mumbling,

“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, I’m not gonna last much longer. Where do you want…?”

Before he can even finish you’re blurting out,

“Inside me Eddie, please.”

You bounce on Eddie’s lap as his thrusts become deeper, faster, and then harsher and less rhythmic. You grind down onto his pelvis, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone and his thick, dark pubic hair, as his cock continues to bully your most sensitive spot.

Suddenly your muscles tense, thighs clamping around him, your forehead pressing hard into his, as his hips slam up into you. You let out a low whine as you peak again, vision blackening, all your muscles tensing as your walls clench around him.

Eddie follows almost immediately, thrusting harshly upwards and pulling your hips down onto him, and you feel rushes of warmth as he groans and empties himself inside your fluttering cunt.

There’s quiet for a moment, and all you can hear is your panting breaths and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, foreheads feasting against each other, heartbeats slowing and breathing becoming more regular.

Breathlessly, and without full clarity, you sit up slightly and mumble “Fuck, Eddie, that was…”

Eddie chews a little on the inside of his lower lip, and with the widest, sexiest smile you’ve ever seen, replies softly,

“Merry Christmas, Boots.”

After a few moments spent pecking kisses on various parts of your face, making you giggle, Eddie eventually helps you to lift off his slowly softening cock. He leans over to retrieve his discarded tank top and uses it to help clean the mess you both made between your legs.

You unpeel yourselves from the golden throne, feeling sure the heels of your boots have left marks in your ass, and he aids your passage back to the locker room on wobbly legs, helping you wash and making sure you’re ok.

As you gather your things he changes into his street clothes. They’re not dissimilar to last night, though he’s foregone the chain belt and has chosen a somewhat more fully intact shirt, and he watches you as he slings on his leather jacket.

Almost ready, you look down forlornly at your gaping tights, the hole barely covered by the hem of your skirt. Eddie chuckles, and tries to lighten your hosiery-related mood.

“Perhaps I could buy you a new pair? Maybe at lunch tomorrow we could go visit your favourite shop, and you could pick out something nice?”

The image of Santa and one of his elves nonchalantly browsing the displays in a sex shop amuses you greatly, and you tell him so, but he insists he would totally do it, if you wanted to.

There’s a pause as you retrieve your coat and go to put it on, and as you do he adds,

“Well, I’d call it a Christmas gift, but… I’d actually prefer to get you something a little nicer. If you’re around. And you’d let me, of course.”

You’re surprised by Eddie’s unexpected tenderness, and the implication that he might want to continue… whateverthisis. You don’t want to presume anything, but there’s certainly a little tingle in your belly at the thought.

You reply, sardonically, “Sure, I guess. So long as it’s not red and glittery, I think I've had enough things like that to last me for a little while.”

You both snort-laugh at this.

As you start to walk together to the staff exit at the back of the mall, Eddie offers to take your bag so you can fasten your coat and put on your hat and gloves.

Trying to sound casual, he asks, “Sooo, how’re you gettin’ back to Robin’s?”

“I was gonna take the bus, like usual.”

Eddie looks at you sideways, slightly bashful.

“Could I, maybe, give you a ride? We can stop at Benny’s on the way, if you’re hungry. It's a diner”, he clarifies, remembering that you’re not from around here.

Your tummy flips, and not just from the thought of a milkshake and fries.

“Yeah, sure, I’d like that.”

Eddie smiles that wide smile again, and you see his cheeks turn a little pink. It’s odd, him being all shy and self-conscious after what you two have just done, but somehow it’s also incredibly endearing.

As he walks you through the parking lot, still carrying your bag and toying with a stray piece of tinsel that he found in his pocket, he says,

“Y’know, I’d still really like to see what you do with that Christmas dildo.”

Thinking back to how he looked all tangled up, you smirk back at him as you think of how you’d quite like a redo of him tied up for you.

As you reach his van, you lean against the passenger door and coyly look at him.

“Well, maybe I could show you. Could we, maybe, do something after work tomorrow?”

With the sweetest dimpled smile you think you’ve ever seen, Eddie cocks his head to one side and lifts a hand to run the tip of one forefinger along your jawline, as he replies in that low rumble,

“Oh, Boots, you should know by now. All you have to do is ask.”

🎄You may not yet be completely sold on the whole idea of The Holidays™️, but you’ll have to admit to Robin that this might well be the start of your Best. Christmas. Ever.🎄

Thanks so much for reading! ILY 🥰

Please support your content creators by not only liking but also commenting and reblogging - it’s so important. If you liked this there’s a good chance others will too, and comments and reblogs are the only way posts get seen. Consider it a Christmas gift to your writers and followers 😍🎅🏼 Thank you, and Happy Holidays, however you celebrate!

Resources: Proof that Deck The Halls can be sung to the tune of War Pigs (and vice versa), plus the ‘Fa la la’ 😊🎄

[tartarusknight]

Imagine if Corroded Coffin got popular and over the years they released a shit ton of music. But one year they came out with a metal Christmas album. All of the songs going hard and exactly what everyone expected. Except, the last song was Not metal.

The cover of Santa Baby is more stripped down than the rest and Eddie changes the words of the song to Santa Buddy. But he puts in so much sexual tension in his singing that everyone is freaking out.

But then they post a music video for Santa Baby. And instead of one of the Corroded Coffin boys in the Santa outfit, it's some guy no one recognizes. Eddie dances around the guy, and it's the gayest thing anyone's seen.

And well, only their close family recognize it as Steve, Eddie's (illegal) husband.

[kizzys]

Stranger Things 4: Santa Clarita Diet edition

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 7 - Mall and/or Job

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,884 | rated: G

“Munson Residence, wha'd’ya want?” Eddie groans into the receiver.

Whoever this is better be someone super fucking important to have woken him up with their damn ringing. He’s surprised Wayne didn’t wake up too, but it’d be kinda hard to hear the phone over those snores.

“Eddie! Thank god,”

Oh. Steve! Very important, actually.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s up?”

“Eddie, can you do me a huge favor?”

“Yeah, of course, what’s wrong?” he immediately spirals into what all could have gone wrong, what could be going wrong. Everything dark blue and cold, vine-y and the flashing of red lightning—

“Nothing, nothing–well, something.. Can you please run to my place later today and grab my lunch? I forgot it this morning and I know I’m not going to be able to run back and get it and get back in time to eat it before my break is over.”

“Your lunch?” “Yeah, I packed one this morning but left it on the counter. There’s a key under the mat and everything.” Eddie barks out a laugh, “Tryin’ to get robbed, big guy?”

“I don’t care about any of the shit in that house.” Steve scoffs. He shrugs even though Steve can’t see him. “Fair enough. Sure Stevie, I’ll bring your lunch; when do you want me there?” “Dude, you’re the best; My lunch break is right at noon, can you be here just before then?”

“Got it. Five to noon at Family Video.” he drawls out as if he’s writing the information down.

“Uh, actually…not Family Video..”

A short two hours later, Eddie finds himself among a throng of people inside Melvald’s. He has to fight his way forward at first, but the crowd thins out as he gets closer to the registers.

Damn, he’s not even that far into the store and he feels like he’s ran a mile.

“Ms. Byers!”

“Oh! Hello Eddie, what brings you here?” “Steve called and asked if I could drop off his lunch to him. Do you know where he is? I didn’t even know he was working here.”

Joyce just grins at him. It’s weirdly mischievous. “Only temporarily, he’s near the back of the store. Just head back there and I’m sure you’ll find him.”

“Uh..thanks. See ya later Ms. B.”

He wanders toward the back of the store through the aisles, but stops up short when a fake white picket fence blocks his path.

The whole back corner of the store has been covered in fake felt snow, a couple of those fake plastic trees like Steve’s (though these are a normal size), a candy-striped ‘North Pole’, and dozens of paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling between what seems like hundreds of string lights.

And there, sitting in the middle of it on a throne that looks suspiciously like the one he used to use during Hellfire, is Steve. Dressed in a Santa suit. With long white beard, big ol’ belt and buckle, shiny black boots..

“Psst!”

He’s got something stuffed into his Santa jacket to give him the right shape, and even some small half-moon glasses, but those sparkling eyes, the freckles, that one swoop of brown hair stubbornly sticking out from under the fuzzy brim of his hat, that’s all Steve.

“Eddie!”

Santa Steve is fully enraptured by whatever story the kid on his knee is telling him, their hands waving every which way but somehow missing smacking Santa right in the face. Steve just continues to nod along, then gives them a hearty “Ho Ho Ho!” when they try to squeeze their tiny arms around his fake belly.

“Eddie!!”

He glances over at the sound of his name, and sees Robin waving frantically at him from her spot at old school music stand-turned-podium. She’s got on some sort of outfit that honestly looks like it was supposed to be a jester costume, where’d she even get that from?

His feet start toward her, but his eyes fall back on Steve Claus, now posing for a picture with the kid who’s smiling so wide it looks like his face will split in half.

Managing to take his eyes off Steve for a moment, he sees Jonathan behind the camera, and that Argyle kid is crouched in front of Robin, talking to the next kid in line to see Santa. All three of them are wearing matching jester costumes.

Eddie steps up to her podium after Argyle and the new kid pass in front of him to see Steve, “Family Video not paying enough, Birdie?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, the extra cash doesn’t hurt. Joyce asked us to help out.”

He nods at her, and finds his eyes drifting back to Santa Steve.

This kid is much more shy than the last one, tilting her head down and taking short glances up at Steve’s face.

Steve is saying something to her, a low comforting sound that Eddie can only make out the tone of. His one hand covers the entirety of her upper back, and his thumb is moving up and down to try and soothe her nerves. His head is ducked down to be more level with her, looking at her over those half-moon glasses.

Suddenly, the girl’s head snaps up and Steve leans back a bit. “Yeah?” he hears him say.

The girl grins, nodding her head like crazy, then she too is squeezing Steve into a hug. It’s so unfairly endearing, he can actually feel his heart swelling in his chest.

Robin speaks up then, “So..?”

“So?” he repeats dumbly.

“So wha’d’ya think, Munson?” 

“Does he need a Mr. Claus?”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“Uh, wait, I mean Mrs.–Do you have— is someone going to—”

Eddie chances a look over at her…she’s wearing a smug, shit-eating grin. She leans toward him conspiratorially and mumbles out “I wouldn’t mind a Mrs. Claus myself.”

She leans back, still looking smug, but there’s a note of panic in her eyes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So would he.” he mumbles out himself, jerking his chin towards Steve.

Robin only shrugs “You never know.”

“You never—what do you know, Buckley?” he asks, stepping closer and pointing an accusing finger into her still smug face.

“I know that there’s some mistletoe hanging above the breakroom door.”

He’s confused for just a moment, then understanding floods through him, “You little—”

A short whistle interrupts his incoming tirade, and Eddie can see Steve Claus moving out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry folks, it’s time for Santa’s Cookie break!” Robin calls out over the long line of people. “He’ll be back in 30 minutes though, don’t you worry!” the smile falls off her face as soon as she turns her back to them.

Eddie follows her, Jonathan, and Argyle toward the back rooms, “I’m gonna take a nap.” She says, “Tell Santa to grab me before he goes back.” She waves toward a door as she passes it and from the sprig of greenery hanging above it, this must be the breakroom. 

Robin takes a right down a turn in the hall, and Jon and Argyle push out the back door of the building.

He expects more of the same when he opens the door to the breakroom, for Steve to huff and grouse about the kids or the parents or something, but when he does, Steve is grinning ear to ear as he combs through his (now removed) fake beard.

“Hey Santa Stevie.”

“Eds!”

“I’ve got your lunch.” he holds up the brown paper bag for Steve to see. Steve nods, and lays the beard out on an empty chair, taking off his hat and glasses too and setting them both on top before stepping forward to grab the bag. “And you have hat hair.” Eddie laughs.

Steve’s free hand jumps to his head and scruffs up the long hairs, making them stick up every which way instead of just being plastered down on his forehead.

“Better?”

“Sure, big guy.” Eddie pokes Steve’s fake belly.

Steve chuckles, then heads to a table in the corner where he dumps out his lunch bag.

“So what’d Past Steve pack for Future Steve?” Eddie asks, plopping down in a chair kitty-corner from Steve’s. “Bologna and mustard sandwich, Doritos, and half of a leftover Hellfire cookie.”

“And a Coke,” Eddie says, taking a can out of his jacket pocket, “I grabbed one for you from your fridge.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles warmly at him. “You want some?”

“No way dude, you gotta get your energy back after dealing with all those kids, right?” Eddie says, waving him off. 

“Eh, some of them are little assholes, but most of them are really well behaved.” he’s ripping his sandwich in half, “Gotta impress Santa, right?”

He offers him one half, and Eddie takes it.

“It’s really not a bad gig, though the beard is itchy as hell…”

Steve starts talking about some of the kids who have come by in the last couple days of them doing this, having started on that past Monday, the 1st.

There were the kids asking for baseball bats, Lincoln Logs, Malibu Barbie, Rockstar Barbie (“Barbie’s a rockstar now?”, “Barbie can be anything, I guess.”), all the usual things.

Then there were kids that asked for actual Santa stuff, “I don’t want my mom and dad to get a divorce.”, “I wish I had some friends.”, “I want my grandpa to get better.”

“Makes me wish I actually was Santa, y’know? Then maybe I could actually help them.”

Eddie’s heart is definitely getting way too fuckin’ big for his chest.

He puts his hand on Steve’s forearm where it’s resting on the table between them. “You are a good man, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s face flushes nearly as red as his suit. “Thanks, Eddie.” he glances above Eddie’s head then, “I better go wake up Robin, if she naps too long on top of the potatoes, she gets cranky.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, better get on that.”

Steve stands up and tugs on his hat, not bothering to put on the beard and glasses yet. The fuzzy white band smushes a lock of his hair onto his forehead. 

“Hold on,” Eddie stands as well, reaching forward to tuck the hair under the bottom of Steve’s hat. “Now you’ll be ready to see your adoring public.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, walking with him toward the door.

And of course, Eddie forgot all about the damn mistletoe until Steve’s arm stops him in the doorway.

‘Jesus H. Christ…’

He glances over at Steve, then up at the offending plant.. 

Eddie looks back down, out toward the rest of the store where they’d be clearly visible in the doorway.

“I guess you owe me one, huh big boy?” Eddie chuckles, ‘Stupid plant, stupid Robin, stupid Ed–’

His thoughts are cut off when Steve tugs him back into the breakroom, moves him against the wall, and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. The opposite to the kiss he’d given Steve three weeks ago.

Steve leans back, a smirk on his lips and a pink flush on his face. “Now we’re even.” he winks, then turns out the door to wake up Robin.

i may have actually kicked my feet and giggled about this one lmao

also, rockstar barbie mentioned here is from the 1986 Barbie and The Rockers set

also, also, i'm getting rid of the 'pre' before the steddie up top, you all know what's happening and where this is going lol - it's steddie.

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

[bettyfrommars]

Santa Comes Once a Year

biker!eddie x fem!reader

I had a request from the amazing @idkidknemore for "biker Eddie dressed up as Santa, railing reader on his motorcycle sleigh" and I also wanted some Eddie as Santa action for the Holiday Prompt Party I am doing with @allthingsjoeq he is not a mall Santa in this, but still.

wc: 2.7k

18+ONLY, smut, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, talk of cheating (on Mrs. Claus), roleplay, creampie, fingering, bit of spanking, ton of cliche phrases, sexualizing Santa, secret sex I guess? but it's just pretend, semi-public sex if you squint.

summary: you go to the Lighted Farm Implement show for the first time with Robin and Oliver to see what Eddie and Steve have cooked up for the parade. Afterwards, Santa takes you back to his place in his towtruck sleigh and wants to give you some cream with your cookies.

author's note: This can absolutely be enjoyed as a smutty standalone, but some elements of I'm on Fire are mentioned, including Robin raising Steve's son Oliver with him since he was a baby, and the fact that biker Eddie runs his own towing/mechanic business.

This was your first time attending the night time Lighted Farm Implement parade in Hawkins, and you weren’t sure what that even meant until Robin explained it to you.

“You know, Farm Implements. They decorate them with Christmas lights and throw candy for the kids.”

For some reason, all you could picture were shovels and snippers dancing through the street like some magical Beauty and the Beast scene.

Robin’s cheeks were rosy and she had Oliver in her arms, a navy Columbia fleece zipped up to her chin.  Mother and son each had matching, fuzzy blue ear muffs on.  She noticed your confused expression as the three of you walked up the street from where you parked. 

“Tractors, backhoes, dumptrucks, cement mixers,” she gave a few examples and your face lit up in recognition.  “There will also be buses, a few 18-wheelers, and a tractor bed with the Mayor on it.”

The big, shiny black tow truck from Munson’s Garage was in the parade too, and you were curious to see what Eddie and the guys had done to it.  Your boyfriend had been asked to dress as one of the Santa’s that year, and you’d switched evenings at the Velvet Hammer with Jackie just so you could witness this miracle of the season, being that Eddie wasn’t a huge fan of Christmas. 

He mostly did it for Oliver, to see the wonder on his face when Santa knew his name, and that year specifically, he was doing it for you.  He wanted to impress you by being the star of the show.  

Everyone from town lined the streets and cheered as the Hawkins high school band trumpeted down the lane to officially begin the parade with cheerleaders punching pompoms in the air at the front. Robin put Oliver down and you all moved through the crowd to get closer to the action. .

 Behind the band was a green John Deere bulldozer all decked out in colorful bulbs and an arc of gingerbread people up the back.  The owner of the local grocer drove a 1945 Chevy truck with Christmas trees in the back and a person dressed like an elf in the passenger seat tossing out chocolate bars.  A few skidded close to Oliver and he lurched to grab them with an excited scream. 

Each vehicle had its own music playing, and the next yellow backhoe with a santa in the bucket and adorned with snowflake lights was blaring Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee.  They threw some lollipops out, and this time you rushed to snatch a few for Ollie so that he wouldn’t have to go too far out into the street.

You were distracted watching the mammoth equipment vehicle pass when you heard Oliver screech and point, “Daddy!”

Your head snapped and there was Eddie’s tow truck, blinking with what seemed like a billion white twinkle lights with a pine wreath on the grill, and a person hanging off the side of the truck dressed as…a goat? Or was it Father Time?

Oliver recognized Steve immediately, and when he spotted his son, he jumped down from the step up to the cab with a sack of candy in his hand and came jogging over.  As he got closer, you tried to make out his costume, but came up with nothing.  He was wearing his typical biker attire with his Coffin Kings leather cut on over a hooded sweatshirt and black jeans, but the faux beard he had on was long and thin down to his belly button, and it was gray, not white.  He wore sunglasses and a black fedora.

He ran to give Ollie the bag of candy while the tow truck rolled by at a snail pace.  

“Are you Biker Santa?” You asked, sneaking a look at the sexy Santa in a red hat behind the steering wheel of the tow who was waving to get your attention.  You blew Eddie a kiss and he made the gesture of catching it in the air.  

Steve held his arms out as he trotted backwards to get back on his ride.  “I’m one of the guys from ZZ Top!” He shouted, as if it should’ve been obvious.

You shared a look with Robin.  “Don’t ask,” she mumbled.  

They were towing a wrecked car behind them with what appeared to be four reindeer holding cans of beer, each hanging out a window.  The song Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer played cheekily from speakers that were mounted on the lift.  

All three of you cheered and screamed for the rest of the show, and by the time two clowns in tiny toy trucks brought up the rear, you felt a warm body press up against your backside and you tilted your head back into the squish of a white, fluffy beard.

“Ho ho ho,” Eddie whispered against the shell of your ear making your body tingle from the warmth of his breath.  “I hear you’re the naughtiest girl in town.”

He stepped away and tapped Ollie on the shoulder, taking on a deep, jolly voice.  “And who is this good little boy?”

Oliver had the white stem of a sucker sticking out of his mouth when he turned.  “Oh hi Uncle Eddie,” he managed, sucking back purple saliva.

Eddie straightened to full height, his eyes falling on Robin with a blink of sadness, but she only shrugged.  “He’s getting wise to the world, what can I say?”

You turned to melt into your boyfriend’s chest, feeling the bit of padding he had on his belly under the soft faux fur accents of his red velvet coat.  There was a little jingle bell on the end of his Santa hat, and you flicked it with your finger.  You pushed him back through the crowd, off to the sidewalk and into the shadows, making him back up as you went.

“So,” you made sure no one was around before you slid your hand between his legs.  “Is this the official Yule Log, or are you just happy to see me?”

You could barely find his mouth under the synthetic mustache, and then you giggled and sputtered on a stiff Santa hair.  

He yanked the beard down with a tug of his fist, stretching the elastic band that held it in place,  so that it was under his chin and pulled you in again, returning your kiss so deep that a small groan escaped you.  

“You wanna get out of here?” he said in a rush, and then he nudged your nose with his.  “Come sit in my sleigh with me?”

Steve was reunited with his family by then, with Oliver up on his shoulders, and you checked to see the three of them head off in the opposite direction, possibly to Robin’s car.  You were all planning to meet back up at their place to make cookies in an hour, so you had a window of time.

Back in the cab of the  tow truck that was parked down the street, Eddie pulled the pillow stuffing out from under his coat and flipped the heat on high, but it almost wasn’t needed because the makeout session that ensued made the windows fog up.  You took his hat and beard off and tossed them on the dash so that you could finally have your hands around that face that you loved so much, squirming to get closer to him.  He had his hair tied up in the back and you released the band so that his locks fell around his shoulders.  

“If I’d known this would get you going baby, I would’ve put the beard on earlier,” he huffed.

You flicked your tongue out to tease him a few times.  “I need you inside of me, Santa.  No one will know, it will be our secret,” and you were just about to kick your leg over to straddle his lap when you both realized that there were people walking right next to the vehicle on the sidewalk.  

“Let’s get out of here, Mistress,” Eddie kissed your cheek.  “Take this back to the garage, finish what we started.”

You sat back, giving him a raised brow as he shifted the monster vehicle into gear.  “Oh, you think I’m just going to give it up when and wherever you want?”

“I think you’ll do whatever I tell you to do,” he said over his shoulder, watching for traffic before pulling into the street.  “I’m Santa.”

—-----

You sat right next to him the whole way there, like lovers do, with his hand on your thigh.  He still had the wrecked car with the beer-guzzling reindeer statues inside, so he was careful on the turns, while festive bystanders honked and waved.

At the Munson Garage compound, Eddie thought he would unhook the wrecked car from the crane, but there wasn’t time for that—he could feel your arousal dampening your jeans.  Parking in the furthest garage would have to do.  

“Get over here, naughty girl,” he licked his lips and opened his Santa jacket to reveal two black suspenders over a white t-shirt, and then he undid the suspenders to move his hand down to fist himself.

Your boots were off and your jeans at your knees when the sight of the tip of his glistening pink tip freed from his wholesome attire made you pause to touch yourself, putting your back against the opposite door with your legs spread so he could watch.

It was dim in the roomy cab of the truck, but Eddie could still see the wet spot on your red underwear where you worked your fingers and he bit out a curse.

“You heard me,” his tone was stern.  “I said get that beautiful ass over here and sit on Santa’s cock.”  

You didn’t bother taking your underwear off as you kicked your jeans away and scrambled over, giggling when he pushed his red pants down a bit more to show the mistletoe print on his boxers.  Your head hit the roof of the cab, but then you were finally squatting in his lap, teeth hitting as you fumbled into position.

He was quick to reach down between the two of you and move your panties to the side so that he could rub his knuckle up and down your slippery clit.

He puffed out a chest full of air.  “Goddamn was it the beard or the whole thing?”

“Just you,” you lifted up, pushing his hair back to cup your hands on either side of his throat.  “I’ve been aching for you all night, Santa. Waiting for you to come down my chimney.”

Eddie shivered, reaching to line his tip up with you. “Why is this so hot, holy shit,” he chuckled softly.

But then he was inside of you, and you sank down an inch with a cry, arousal dripping down his length.

His mouth pressed into the side of yours. “Did you miss me all year? You want to be a bad girl for me now?”

“That’s why you come to my house, isn’t it Santa?” You gasped.  “Because you want to fuck me? I’m your favorite.”

Eddie hissed and threw his head back as you bottomed out.  You could feel the faux fur from the top of his pants ticking your taint.  “You know I always come back for you, because you take me so good, fuck—-” 

You rocked your hips, squeezing that important muscle as you went.  “Better than Mrs. Claus?”

Eddie gripped your ass and pulled your cheeks apart with his strong, calloused fingers, thrusting up to meet  you, smacking against your wetness.  “Better than anyone, fuck.  I dream about this all year.  Landing my sleigh in Hawkins so I can bury myself in your tight, wet cunt.”

You were both breathing heavy, sweat trickling down your necks, while a few snow flurries danced into the garage. 

You reached a hand down to work two fingers at your clit.  Every word you said was against his lips:  “I want some cream with my cookies, please Santa.”

“Yeah?” Eddie huffed, rolling his hips in his seat so that you could feel every inch of his cock, making you whine a string of obscenities.  “What else do you want, huh? You want me to fill you up all night, so my cream drips out of you on Christmas day?”

He spanked your asscheek with a thwack and you arched back.  “Yes Santa, please, ruin me so I only fuck myself to thoughts of you.”

“I’m about to cum,” Eddie breathed, and your mouths met in a frenzy of tongues and moans. He could feel you throb around him.  

“So soon, Santa?” You teased.

“Shhhhh,” he took hold of your throat and planted his booted feet to thrust up into, taking you for a ride.  

You put your forehead to his and bounced a few more times, and then you froze, mouth open in a silent scream as the wave began to crash.

“That’s my baby,” he held you in that position and continued to buck up to bury himself inside over and over.  “Cum for Santa, let me feel it.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you exploded around him, whimpering and twitching. 

The back of your heel kicked up and accidentally flipped a switch on the dash, making all of the Christmas lights on the truck blaze on, and Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer blared from the speakers.  

You clung to Eddie while he came, shuddering at how good it felt but also

In a few seconds, you were both grinning, shoulders bobbing with laughter as the song seemed to herald in your mutual releases.

The windows of the cab were completely fogged up, and between that and the music, neither of you heard anyone enter the garage until there was a bang on the driver’s side door.  

“What the—?” Eddie scowled, and you were already scampering off of him, snatching clothing from the floorboard to cover yourself.

Eddie tucked himself back into the huge wet spot on his pants and wiped condensation off of the glass so that he could see who it was.  He was about to be angry, thinking it was one of the other mechanics about to give him shit or try to get a peek at you

but it was Steve.

The truck was lifted and the windows up too high for him to see in, but still Eddie checked to make sure you were decent before he rolled the window down.  He leaned over to switch off the lights and the music.  You gave a nod as you wrapped your coat around your waist.  

“Hey,” Eddie wiped some hair out of his face, trying to act casual.  “What up? Everything okay?”

Steve had his long beard in his hand, hugging himself, shivering against the cold, with the fedora pulled snug to his ears.  “Did you forget you were going to give me a ride?  I just walked halfway across town. Slipped and fell on the fucking ice twice.”

Eddie dropped his forehead to his fist.  “Shit sorry man I—-why didn’t you go with Robin?”

“Because I told her I was riding back with you to unhook the rig,” Steve sounded annoyed, teeth chattering, and you didn’t blame him, but still you stifled a giggle into your arm. 

“Tried to call Astrid from a payphone, and she’s not answering, so now I’ve got blisters from these stupid elf boots that Robbie made me buy.”

Eddie pulled his lips in over his teeth to contain his amusement.

“It’s not funny, dude,” Steve said, but then he caught a glimpse of you in the cab and you gave an apologetic grimace.  “Oh okay, I get it. Forgiven. But can we get this shit over with so we can get out of here? Robin doesn’t know how to work an oven and she’ll probably burn the place down before we get there.”

Eddie stretched across the cab to kiss you.  “Stay in here, keep warm.  I’ll put the Chevelle around when we’re done.”

“Go help your ZZ Top elf, Kris Kringle,” you shoved him playfully, but then he held his face there and hummed until you kissed him again.

You pulled your jeans up, eager to keep Santa’s gift from spilling out.  

---------

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[icallhimjoey]

Only Now

♥ ♥          Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Eddie needs Hawkins, needs his old friends, needs you to ground him every couple of months. And so he visits for a few days in the middle of December and lets all of you pretend you're momentarily back in '88, and it's beautiful, but it hurts. A lot.

Author’s note: Christmas came early @joejoequinnquinn! Surprise! This one's just for you as part of @quinnyfairy's Secret Santa Project; my very first (and maybe last, idk) Eddie fic ever. Hope you enjoy!!

CW / disclaimer: 18+, angsty, swearing (lots), drinking, little smutty sort of, reader celebrates Christmas (some form of it anyway) and also my very first time writing for Eddie so please bear with!

Wordcount: 9.5K

(find all other parts of this story here) God, how you wished you could slow down time. You wanted longer minutes, longer hours. Slower ticking clocks. Maybe even freeze time all together, just so you could relish his company for longer. It felt like the minutes were slipping by in record time and sleeping through them only sped them up even more. So, you laid awake instead, and mentally willed the stretch between each tick of your clock to lengthen as you stared at Eddie next to you.

You were trying to stay quiet. Not let Eddie hear you cry, because you knew if he did, he’d shake his sleep off of him and wouldn’t be able to get back to it. It was only quarter past two, which was far too many hours ‘til morning still, and Eddie needed his sleep. This was likely the last night he'd sleep in an actual bed; for the next few weeks it'd be bunkbeds on buses and couches in dressing rooms.

He looked so soft with his hair braided up and out of his face, still wet from when he’d let you wash it hours earlier. How could you not cry at the sheer sight of him? He’d never let anyone else see him like this, you knew it to be true, and those soft noises he made? The grunts, mumbles and groans his sleep let escape him? Just for you, you were convinced.

You felt a fresh tear roll over the bridge of your nose, and there was no point in wiping it away. You knew it would find your pillow or your covers to disappear into. This was exactly what Steve had warned you about, countless times. He’d said he wouldn’t allow you to slip back and do this all over again, not after the last time, but when Eddie arrived three days ago, you’d seen Steve struggle with the same inner battle. He’d missed Eddie just as much and just as easily would let himself transport back to ’87, ’88.

“He’s here!” Steve had gotten up from the picnic table you’d both been sat on outside of your apartment building as you’d waited for Eddie. Butts perched up on the tabletop, feet on the wooden bench below you, up and away from the cold ground below it, you’d been chatting, and Steve had tried to talk some sense into you before Eddie’s taxi had pulled up.

“I know you think he needs it, but ultimately, you know you shouldn’t let him,” Steve had said, placing blame with you. You shouldn’t let him. Not, Eddie shouldn’t do this.

“I know,” you agreed, but you were the one thinking all your thoughts, feeling all your feelings. Not Steve. You knew very well that you shouldn’t let Eddie come into your world and pretend you were still twenty and fresh-faced for a few days before he’d fuck off and leave you again. But what was the alternative? Have none of Eddie at all? That option seemed much worse.

“I know you know, but it’d be great if you made smart choices. Smarter choices.” Steve referenced the last time Eddie had been in town. He had visited Hawkins for six days last May, and for weeks afterwards, Steve had been busy picking up the pieces of you that you didn’t seem to be able to hold onto yourself. He had to put real effort in to put you back together, slowly but surely, until you felt like a human being again.

Steve was a good friend. It was because Steve also missed Eddie a lot, so he understood on another level, but it also meant he let his mind get cloudy when Eddie was around. Neither of you were part of Eddie’s life anymore, not like you were before he’d left, and neither of you liked that. The three of you had almost joined at the hip, and whenever Steve would hang out with Robin, you and Eddie would play house. Eddie was your not-boyfriend, and you were his not-girlfriend. For all intends and purposes, you were absolutely dating each other. But if someone asked if Eddie was your boyfriend, or if you were his girlfriend, you’d always say no. No. You were just friends. Except you weren’t. But you were.

Now, you were pieces of the puzzle of Hawkins to him, the place he would come back to every couple of months when he’d find the time in between tours. Eddie needed the place to ground himself, to feel like the person he felt he still was on the inside. He would keep that Eddie in his own pocket, but he would always lose that version of himself on stage after doing a few shows. He wouldn’t realise he’d gone missing until he’d smash another TV in a hotel room with strangers who pretended to be his friends, and girls who were only there because he was the Eddie Munson, front man to famous metal band Corroded Coffin. That’s when he’d call Wayne and he would tell him to let everyone know he’d be coming down soon. Make sure Hawkins was ready for him. Lay the red carpets out. And Wayne would chuckle, and then he’d just tell the two of you.

"Munson!" Steve called out as he walked towards the taxi that Eddie had just opened the door of, his arms already opening.

"Harrington!" Eddie called back in the same tone once he stepped out and saw Steve.

Eddie looked absolutely horrible. Like he hadn't stopped continuously drinking and hadn't slept for days. But he smiled, and when Steve jumped him, he hugged him back with strong arms and patting hands.

"Jesus, you smell like the floor of a dive bar," Steve said, and it made Eddie throw his head back with laughter.

They broke into a playful scuffle, half wrestling, half still hugging, poking fingers at each other like teenage boys who didn't know how else to express affection. Their grunting and laughing reached your ears and made you smile. You stayed put, sat on your hands on the picnic table still, not wanting to intrude on their moment together, until Eddie caught your eye over Steve's shoulder.

"You," Eddie pointed, and you saw the glint in his eyes change. Eddie looked at you different, and it made the words Steve had tried so hard to imprint onto you immediately disappear. Eddie was here. And he was looking at you.

"Get your ass over here," Eddie beckoned with wild arms as he started walking towards you himself, leaving Steve to take Eddie's duffle bag from the taxi driver.

You pushed yourself from the bench, and took small steps, but stopped when Eddie started running and looked at you the same way he had looked at Steve when he'd started wrestling him. Full puppy dog energy. You let him crash into you, lift you from your feet and swing you around, legs flailing and voice squealing. Steve was right. Eddie smelled like he'd washed his hair with beer a couple days ago and hadn't touched it since.

"Missed you," Eddie spoke into your hair before planting a kiss there and putting you down. Missed you more, you thought, but couldn't say it. You took a minute to look at him, still in his grip. Eddie looked older, like he had aged twice as fast as you had. There were more lines on his face and his eyes sat a little deeper. His hair lacked shine and his scruff eyed unruly. You wondered how long ago it was since Eddie had eaten a vegetable.

"How long are you staying for?" you asked before saying anything else. Please stay for Christmas, you thought. Please.

"Just a few days," Eddie said, and it pained you that he said it like it was good news. Like he couldn't actually wait to get out of here again. Like that didn't absolutely wreck you.

"Let's head inside, it's fucking freezing," Steve walked past you and broke your moment with Eddie, slinging a protective arm around your shoulder, ensuring that you fell into step together as you made your way inside. You feared you'd shown too much in your face. Things that Steve had definitely spotted, but somehow, Eddie hadn't.

You headed up to Steve's apartment together, Steve decided. In the elevator, Steve pressed the button for his floor, not yours, and the second of quick eye contact between the two of you said enough. Once inside, Eddie immediately asked if it was okay for him to take a quick shower. You know, because he'd been traveling so long, Eddie said. Not because the stench of alcohol really had almost become too overwhelming in the small space of the elevator, and Eddie realised just then how clean and healthy you and Steve looked compared to him, all flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and plump skin.

When Eddie locked the door behind him, you caught your reflection in Steve's hallway mirror and immediately regained your composure; you stood up straight, pulled your shoulders back and relaxed your brow. Eddie was here. You were going to have fun together. Even if it was just for a few days. Maybe even more so because of it, because now it was extra important to make every second count.

"You okay?" Steve saw. You smiled and said you were. Eddie was here now. You did a good job pushing all sadness aside and told it to not pop back up until later. Sometime after Christmas maybe. You could deal with it then. Steve accepted your smile, happy to see you still had it ready for him, but he worried about you anyway.

"Where is he?"

It was much later, and Robin used her spare key to let herself into Steve's apartment, not bothering to announce her arrival by ringing the doorbell, not willing to wait for someone else to let her in. You saw Eddie smile, mouth full of pizza still, as he immediately got up from where he was sat on the floor by the coffee table.

Robin walked in, hidden inside a heavy coat, under a wool beanie and wrapped up in a thick scarf. Whatever pieces of hair you could see were wet from the snow that had started coming down late afternoon and hadn't stopped since.

"Oh my God, it's famous rockstar Eddie Munson!" Robin shrieked and bounced as Eddie leant in to hug her tight. He lifted her up, just like he'd done with you, except Robin didn't get any spins or whispers placed into her hair. "Steve!" she called over Eddie's shoulder. "You've got someone famous in your home!"

"All right," Eddie laughed bashfully, "It's just the town's freak today, I’m afraid."

"Yea, a freak who apparently is now friends with Alanis Morissette?! What the fuck, Eddie?" Robin punched Eddie in the arm.

"I've met her once," Eddie argued as he sat back down, looking at you and rolling his eyes. It was aimed at Robin, but he made sure she couldn't see, and you giggled together.

You spent the evening chatting, eating, and drinking. Drinks that Eddie turned down with a swift, "Nah, I'm good, thanks," and you wondered if he didn't touch a single drop just because Steve had made that comment about his scent earlier.

Robin was her chaotic cheerful self and couldn't stop asking Eddie questions. It meant you got to sit back and listen, bask in the company of your friends. As the hours passed, you turned more into the people you once were, and you couldn't help but love every second of it. Steve started using pet names he hadn't used in ages. Robin made sarcastic jokes at the expense of others so skillfully, no one minded them at all. Eddie grew more theatrical in the way you knew him to be, silly, loud, enthusiastic, and stupid, just the way you liked him most. The second you'd stop giggling, someone would do or say something that would get you reared right back up again, and you'd all join in, smug faces with dumb smiles. You weren't sure if you also became more of the girl you once were, or what that even looked like, but you were having fun, and that was all that mattered.

"Where are you staying?" Robin asked Eddie, like she didn't already know. Maybe she didn't, you thought for a second, because why else would she even bring it up? Maybe it was just polite conversation as she started getting ready to go home and brace the cold once more.

"I think–" Eddie squeezed his eyes shut for a second, before cocking his head your way. "–there's a very comfortable couch made up somewhere in this building for me," Eddie smiled. You nodded because he was right. You had fashioned your couch into a comfortable guest bed, but all four of you knew that there wasn't a chance Eddie was going to use it. There was no reason for you to have gotten the extra pillows, duvets, and sheets out, but you had done it anyway. If not to fool anyone else, then at least to fool yourself.

And fool yourself you did. But only for a minute.

"I've got extra blankets here if you need them. Another pillow too, if that one's too firm," you gestured at a closet as Eddie dropped his duffle bag onto your made-up couch. He looked around a second. You'd made the couch look very cosy, and Eddie almost pouted at the effort you'd put in. But then he looked towards the hallway, and without saying anything, let his feet follow his gaze. He just walked right out. You heard him flip the light switch in your bedroom, followed by the soft sound of a thud to your mattress, and then a heavy blissful sigh.

You knew you shouldn't. But you also knew you absolutely would.

Without putting up a fight, without even trying to pretend this wasn’t what you wanted, you got into bed with Eddie and let him pull you close. Eddie hugged you, face to face, and you hugged him back, clinging. Almost as if a hunger inside you that hadn't been stilled in months finally found its satisfaction. All your senses were being fed with all things Eddie, and you reveled in his embrace. Eddie felt strong, but somehow frail too, which was a little troubling. And he smelled like Steve's shampoo, which was a lot troubling. But he was warm, and you were held. It was so very welcoming. So needed. You hugged each other like you used to do all the time, and you nuzzled into him, your nose pressing firmly into his neck. Something in your chest slotted into place, and it felt right.

"Why are you sad?" Eddie asked after a few beats of silence. It was earnest and sober. A question he'd never ask you if you weren't alone together. In the dark, together.

You hated that he'd seen it within you. But how could he not have?

"I'm not," you whispered, and Eddie didn't believe you, but pulled you closer in response. "Go to sleep, you look like you need it," you didn't want to talk anymore. One of Eddie's hands searched to find one of yours to grab onto. To squeeze. And he would've kissed you if he hadn't been so tired.

"Is it the memories?" Eddie asked the darkness that surrounded you, revealing he still knew you better than you knew yourself. Memories had their way of rearing up and sinking their teeth into your present, and you hadn't yet figured out how to not let them hurt you.

Just to put the matter to rest, and because you didn't want to lie to Eddie, you agreed. "It's the memories."

Eddie moved a little before you felt and heard a kiss close to your ear. "I'm here." And he was.

The next morning you woke up being the small spoon to Eddie's big spoon. Eddie had himself wrapped all around you, a leg slung over you up so high, its thigh covered your hip. His nose pressed into your neck where his lips were fluttering soft kisses that tickled you awake slowly. It was the best wake up call you'd gotten in a while, and you pretended you were still asleep, just so the moment would last you longer.

You wanted to take whatever you could get, knowing you would only be able to have it for a short amount of time. It would absolutely ruin you the next time you'd wake up in your bed alone, but you were too greedy for it now not to bask in it. Swim in it forever. Let it bubble around you, like in a hot tub.

Eddie let a hand roam underneath your shirt. They were slow, soft fingers, cool against your skin, but the stroke of them gratifying. Instead of going for a squeeze - which you were totally expecting, you knew Eddie - he pressed his flat palm right in the middle of your chest, catching cleavage, but mostly monitoring your heart rate.

He curled around you more, tightened his arms and pulled you in closer, using the hand over your heart to push you into him. You let him do whatever he wanted, and tried to control your breathing as best you could. He then found a spot on your neck to lick, and just like Eddie predicted, it made your heart beat faster instantly. He knew you were awake.

"Good morning," Eddie's voice vibrated impossibly low and sensual, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Eddie tilted his hips and your breathe caught and shattered. You could feel him press up against you, impossibly hard for you, and it made you want to push back into him more. You didn't move, though, and instead kept your eyes closed and your hands in place. You knew what would happen if you did push back into him; if you did let your hands wander where they were itching to go.

You took a deep breath to shake it off and you felt Eddie do the same. With his face nuzzled into your neck still, Eddie was inhaling you, and you felt him rock his hips into you once more.

You couldn't. Not yet, anyway. Because Steve was in your mind still, with important words of advice you promised you'd guard yourself with when it would eventually come down to this.

Eddie sensed your apprehension and stopped, halting everything he was doing. His hand immediately slipped from your top and his leg moved down yours a little which freed you from the death grip he'd had on you. His common sense returned too abruptly for your liking, though, and you whined at your sudden loss of him. Eddie immediately regretted the severe, quick change in his demeanor. To make it up to you, he lifted himself over you far enough to press a warm, sweet kiss onto your cheek.

"Did you sleep OK?" Eddie sounded much more awake this time.

It was a good thing Eddie got up and out of bed. Every minute you spent in Eddie's arms like that, only made you want it more. He didn't necessarily need to climb out on your side of the bed, though, but the way he had rolled over you, pushing you down into the mattress as roughly as he could whilst muttering, "oh, sorry, just sneaking past, excuse me, sorry," injected humor into your morning together.

It was only a few hours later that you were absolutely freezing your tits off, watching Eddie and Dustin who were quite literally frollicking in the park. It didn't matter how old they were, or how old they'd ever be; these boys would lay their eyes upon each other, and energy would just shoot into their legs. They were running, shouting at each other and laughing loudly. After five minutes of flinging powdery snow and trying to make one another topple over to get a full face of it, you saw the beginnings of little snowballs that they then started rolling into bigger ones.

It was so cold. You had your gloved hands tucked deeply into the pockets of your coat, your chin dipped into your scarf and your face displayed a permanent grimace as it dealt with the biting breeze it couldn't escape.

"Are they... are they seriously going to build a snowman?"

Mike stood next to you, same grimace displayed on his face, shivering even more than you were. He was still just as lanky as he'd been in high school. Tall, thin, unproportionally long limbs and barely any bodyfat at all. Mike wasn't built to keep himself even slightly warm in cold winters like this one. He was too cool for school, too. Too cool to join Dustin and Eddie in their play, so he watched them from the sidelines, just like you did.

"Do you want to go get a coffee?" you asked Mike, turning your full body instead of just your face to look at him, desperate for some warmth and for some caffeine.

"Guys!" Mike called over. "Wanna go grab a coffee?"

You smiled a small smile to yourself. You would've absolutely left Eddie and Dustin for a moment to get a coffee alone with Mike, but Mike clearly didn't think walking off with only you was even an option. It was all right. You and Mike weren't friends. You understood if Mike thought it'd be awkward.

Neither Eddie nor Dustin reacted to Mike's question. They were too busy making sure their ball of snow didn't collapse in on itself. You saw some of Eddie's wet hair strands stick to his face, mouth open as he breathed heavily, letting Dustin tell him how to use his hands in swiping motions to get the shape right. Both of their jeans had big wet patches at the knees and you wondered how cold and uncomfortable they were going to be for the rest of the day. Mike let a weird, sort of judgmental laugh escape his throat before he shook his head. You grinned at Mike. Where Dustin was so openly a fan of Eddie, Mike quietly tried to hide his - to you - obvious admiration for Eddie. You guessed Mike was secretly way more impressed with him than he let on, and desperately wanted to impress Eddie himself too. Dustin was the guy who would unashamedly pin a poster of Eddie up onto his wall, happily displaying that he was friends with Eddie Munson and was so very proud of him. Mike was the guy who thought that putting up posters was definitely not cool, but instead would try to casually name drop Eddie any time he could.

"Well," Mike said. "At least they're having fun," and it didn't sound like a comment Mike would make, but more like he thought it was a good thing to say in the moment. To fill the silence he didn't know how else to fill. And in a desperate attempt to keep conversation with you going, Mike's mind came up with a question he asked before his brain had even thought of what your reaction to it could be.

"What's it like having your boyfriend back?" Mike asked, and you felt your chest tighten, but were incredibly quick to respond. It was like you'd kept the answer ready in your mouth, because you anticipated someone saying something along the lines of what Mike just said.

"Eddie's not my boyfriend."

You'd said the same thing so many times in your teens that you instantly felt transported back in time a bit. You always fully believed yourself when you said that you and Eddie weren't dating, wholly trusted that you were speaking the truth. But it also always hurt you. It was a sentence that scratched at your insides with long, sharp nails that could puncture your flesh if you weren't careful.

"Ex-boyfriend, sorry," Mike corrected himself like he knew what he was talking about.

"Not that either."

You wondered if Mike thought it had been weird when you and Eddie had walked up holding hands, especially if he also thought that you used to date a long time ago. What kind of ex-lovers held hands still?

You hid yourself into your shoulders a bit more and felt how you had lost complete feeling in your toes. Mike frowned at you in confusion. He'd been around you when you were younger. He looked up to Eddie then, and still did now, and where ever Eddie was, you would be too. Robin would shout inappropriate jokes about you in public places all the time. Mike remembered how Eddie had ran after you once, just to squeeze your ass with both his hands, and you'd just turned around and smiled at him. You had let Eddie stop you, even though you were late for something already, and Mike had heard how Robin softly said to Steve that you were definitely fucking each other, which had made Steve scoff loudly. "No, they're not!" Steve had exclaimed. But then they all saw how you looped fingers through a belt hoop on Eddie's jeans to pull him closer into you, and Robin had given Steve a look that said, see? And Steve had stared for a moment before stuttering, "Oh, so, maybe they are...".

"We've never dated," you stated, sensing Mike's confusion with your eyes back on Dustin and Eddie who had now seemingly found themselves in a snowball fight. Dustin hid behind what was starting to look like a snowman, but seemed abandoned now. They wouldn't finish it, you knew it, and that was okay, because numbness was starting to creep up your ankles and you really wanted coffee.

"Eddie!" you called. You saw him freeze and perk up to look at you, like a startled meerkat, big brown eyes locked right onto you and awaited what you were going to say next.

"Coffee!" you beckoned him with your whole upper body, unwilling to take your hands from your pockets, and Eddie came running immediately, under loud protest of Dustin and Mike. Because Dustin didn't want coffee. And Mike was so annoyed that Eddie hadn't listened to him when he called them over earlier.

You started walking and your numb feet felt weird in your shoes, but the movement in your legs was very welcoming. You fell into step with Mike and let Eddie and Dustin catch up with you. When Eddie got close, all wet hair and wild eyes, he latched onto your back and let out a shaking breath as he shivered up against you. He tried to sneak his hands into your pockets alongside yours, shoving them in, bunching up the sleeves of his coat as he did, and finding warmth there. He squeezed your hands through your gloves, and then you walked together like that, like that didn't make you love Eddie more than you already did.

"You can hold Mike," Eddie smiled when you felt Dustin's peering eyes burning holes into the two of you, and a short silence followed before Mike took off running. "Come here, Mike! Cuddle me!" Dustin shouted, as he chased after him and Eddie took the moment to sneak a kiss onto your temple as you laughed and let it fill your chest with pure love for him. Eddie was here.

That evening, you met Steve outside Wayne's trailer before all three of you headed in and enjoyed Wayne's cooking together. The trailer hadn't changed much – some obvious things were different, of course. There was no more fold-up bed in the corner of the living room. It wasn't as messy without all Eddie's things slung about. And it also wasn't as smelly inside – Eddie was never allowed to smoke indoors, but Wayne made long hours, and rules never really stopped Eddie. It was good that the trailer felt different, you thought. It made it feel less like you were a teenager still. Less like you'd traveled back in time.

You sat together, and ate Wayne's homemade meatloaf. "It's the only thing I can make that's decent enough," Wayne undersold his signature dish, like he always did. "Please tell me you have more that I can take with me," Eddie said through a mouthful, and with every bite he took, you thought Eddie looked better. Healthier, with more colour to his cheeks and more life in his eyes.

You ate until you couldn't anymore, you reminisced and you laughed. You didn't think you'd ever seen Wayne laugh the way he did when he told the story of how he once caught Steve sneaking out, trying to climb out of a window unsuccessfully, high as a kite, whilst the door right next to the window was wide open. Wayne laughed so hard, it squeezed tears from his eyes and he could barely make it through the story.

You saw Eddie lean back in his chair, his grin wide, love swelling his chest and flaring his ribcage as he looked at his uncle. He almost looked drunk with love and admiration, and for a second you thought Eddie had just invited you over for dinner at Wayne's because he knew that Wayne loved traveling back in time just as much as he did.

You all helped clean up before Wayne had to leave for his shift at work, and just before he walked out the door, Wayne spoke to you like you were all 16 and about to stay the night over at Eddie's.

"You let your parents know you're here?"

You and Steve looked at each other with stupid smiles, and then both nodded. "Yes, Mr Munson."

"There's pop in the fridge, and there's microwave popcorn, but don't let Eddie touch it, or he'll burn the place down."

There was still a black scorch mark in the kitchen from when Eddie had literally nearly burned the place down. All of your eyes found it, and you saw Eddie grin with a little guilt hidden underneath. It was nice to be at an age where you could joke about things Wayne had been so angry about at the time that they had happened, you could feel it bubble in your stomach and saw Steve almost burst from the strain of barely withheld laughter.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," these were words meant just for you, because Wayne knew they were rendered useless on Eddie and on Steve.

"And boys, look after her." and those were words meant just for Steve and for Eddie, because Wayne knew your parents and he always worried what they thought of you being over in his trailer without adult supervision.

"We will." Steve and Eddie spoke in unison, their tones entirely different from each other. Wayne smiled the smallest of smiles, having greatly enjoyed stepping back into the little routine, and left the three of you alone.

"Movie?" Steve then asked. "For old time's sake?"

And it was so stupid. Because sat on the couch together, it felt like nothing had changed in over ten years. You stared at Wayne's little old shitty TV that he still had, "Still works fine, don't need to replace things that aren't broken," and you picked a movie from a stack of tapes that still held exactly the same titles it did ten years ago. No new additions, everything the same, just labels more faded. You'd sat down in a corner of the couch and pulled your legs up, only for Eddie and Steve to immediately protest.

"I'm not middle-seating it,"

"Move,"

And so you were pulled and pushed into the center of the couch, one boy either side of you, and you sat through a full movie, not paying attention to a single thing that happened in it. Because you were sat next to Eddie, and it was freezing outside, but Eddie was warm - he was all you could feel and all you could think about. And at one point, Eddie's hand that was resting over the back of the couch fell onto your shoulder. And when Steve wasn't looking, Eddie used it to pull you into him and you snuggled up. But then when Steve did look, he didn't even seem fazed. Didn't even mention it. Because this was what it had always been like, and Steve loved his friends all the same, whether they were touching each other, or not.

That's when you felt her take over; your teenage self. You were her, all open, unrestrained and naive in all the best ways. You sighed and sunk into yourself, because you'd missed her. And you knew that she would fight adult-you if you were to deny a kiss from Eddie. Because that was how these nights always ended, didn't they?

Except this night, it didn't, because you weren't actually your teenage self with endless pits of energy within you, and you'd had a long day. It didn't help that whatever you were watching didn't interest you at all, and Eddie's breathing was rhythmic and deep. The last thing you remembered was Eddie and Steve make soft conversation over you as you'd let your eyes close. They said things about the movie. There was small talk about Wayne. You tried to stay awake, hoped that maybe you'd catch them exchange words about you, but you drifted off faster than you could grasp in the moment.

You stirred awake when you felt someone pull you upright by your arms and then guided them to sling over their shoulders. Then there were arms that wrapped around your waist, and a soft restricted groan close to your ear as you got hoisted up off of the couch.

"Mmhm?" So tired.

"Come on, we're getting you into the car," Eddie whispered, and you heard Steve huff a tiny laugh through his nose.

You moved your legs to walk, because you absolutely could walk, but strong hands underneath your thighs held you up and in place. A coat got draped around you, over you, covering you as best it could.

"Tie my scarf," Eddie softly instructed Steve. "So it won't fall," and you felt how something tied around the back of your neck that pulled with Eddie's movement, and you imagined the woven wool tied the two of you together. When Steve opened the door, a cold gust of wind ruined every little bit comfortability and you tightened your koala-grip around Eddie.

"Steve started the car 5 minutes ago, it'll only be cold for a second."

The next morning you woke up on your couch with your face pressed into Eddie’s back. Your made-up couch, where Eddie had placed you down onto the cool sheets after insisting that he also carried you into your apartment when Steve had driven you all back to your building. You’d accepted every touch and every hold with your eyes closed and your limbs slack. Steve had whispered good night when you got out of the elevator at your floor, and Eddie had suggested you could have breakfast together the next day.

“Why are we on the couch?” your voice, thick with sleep, spoke into the dark morning.

You obviously remembered going to sleep on the couch, but only just now wondered why exactly Eddie hadn't taken you into the bedroom, where you'd probably both be much more comfortable, would have a lot more space.

“Couldn’t let it go to waste,” Eddie’s voice was gravelly, like he’d been screaming into a microphone on a stage all night, or like he had a really bad cold. "You made it look very nice."

You pressed your lips against Eddie’s shoulder blade over his T-shirt. It wasn't a kiss per se, but a nice place to just rest your mouth for a little bit. You inhaled Eddie, his scent unmistakably him and you felt him snuggle backwards a little into you more. Confusion struck. You knew this fabric. You smelled your own laundry detergent in the mix of all things Eddie and leant back to get a better look at what he was wearing.

“Are you… are you wearing your old hellfire club T-shirt?”

“Mmh, found it in your pajama drawer,”

Eddie had caught a glimpse his old T-shirt and hadn’t hesitated to put it on, dressing himself in nostalgia, knowing it would fill his cup all the way up to the brim. How could it not? He had just watched a film in the trailer with you and Steve. He had spent the day fucking around with Dustin and Mike. And now, wearing his old T-shirt to bed? This is exactly the type of shit he went to Hawkins for. The type of shit he needed. That grounded him. It pulled him off his pedestal and forced him into his authentic self.

After pulling the T-shirt over his head, he had slid onto the couch next to you, and made sure he positioned himself lower than you, pressing his head underneath your chin. Let you hold him. Made him feel smaller. Younger. Like his old, teenage self.

"Is today your last day?" you loved Eddie in his hellfire club T-shirt. It transformed him more into the Eddie that you knew, inside and out.

"Alive? I hope not," Eddie was quick witted, but you didn't appreciate the joke and stayed silent. Eddie picked up on it immediately.

"They're picking me up tomorrow, yea,"

Eddie said it too neutrally. No emotion or feeling behind his words. You wondered which end of the scale he was on; was he ready to get out of here, or did he maybe wish he could have a little more time? It was probably the former, you thought, and you let it hurt your chest, regretting even thinking about it in the first place. You tightened your hold on Eddie. Pressed your cheek into his back more. You needed to burrow; disappear into everything that was overwhelmingly Eddie for as long as he would let you.

"Do you want to get up?" Eddie asked after a while, his voice suddenly normal, no trace of sleep left at all.

"No," you muffled into his T-shirt, and you felt his body shake with silent laughter.

"Come here,"

You were already there, you thought, but Eddie started shifting to turn around and maneuvered you underneath the covers until you were practically on top of him. He hugged you tightly to his body and you laid like that for a while. Eddie would sometimes kiss your head, swirl his nose into your hair and you could feel how your breathing started syncing up. Like you locked together, somehow. They were blissful moments of nothingness, just the two of you, and you wished they could last forever. You tilted your head and looked up, and without permission or the right, Eddie stole the chance to press kisses to your cheek, creeping closer to your mouth with every single one he planted onto you. You felt yourself at the far end of a bridge, and with every millimeter Eddie got closer to your mouth, you could envision him take big steps across it. You held the power to halt him, make him stop somewhere midway, but he was running, and you really wanted him to crash into you.

Eddie kissed you. It was slow and lazy. It felt dangerously familiar in all the right ways and all the wrong ways at once. Morning kisses turned into morning making out and you felt flutters all throughout your lower stomach that you tried very hard to ignore. Until you couldn't anymore, and you caught yourself, smiled into your kiss and forced it to break.

"Eddie, I don't think..." you started, but breathed as you looked at his mouth. Words faltered you entirely, because Eddie's mouth was there, and it wanted to kiss you, and God, wasn't that exactly what you yearned for?

"I know," Eddie knew exactly what you meant, not needing to hear the words to understand them. "I know."

When you heard a key turn in your front door, Eddie and you were still wrapped up in sheets together. "Steve." Eddie warned, and you knew he was right, immediately shooting up from the couch and scurrying into the kitchen. You pretended you were making coffee when Steve stepped into your living room. Steve was dressed, but the bedhead on him revealed he'd not been awake long at all.

"Breakfast?"

You made toast, and you scrambled some eggs – even parted some oranges for Eddie and Steve. Breakfast was enjoyed mostly in silence, and it was comfortable, just the three of you chewing, sipping, occasionally yawning and stretching. You all shared tired eyes and eventually talked about your plans for the day. Steve said Robin had time to hang out, and Eddie said he wanted to be outside. Go for a walk. See Hawkins in the snow some more, because it looked so nice, all dirt and grime covered up by thick blankets of shimmering white.

When Eddie went to the toilet, Steve eyed you for a second and then sighed loudly. He was annoyed with a capital A and his frown translated it loud and clear.

"It's worse this time, isn't it?" he scoffed, having observed you long enough to know he was right. "Why did you let it get worse?"

You were quick to shoot him down, not wanting to get into it right now. If you did, you'd argue, because it felt unfair for Steve to keep shifting all blame onto you when it was never just you, was it?

"Stop. Everything's fine," you actively gaslit him, and you were very aware of it too.

"Your bed looks extremely untouched in there, you're not fooling anyone," Steve pointed in the direction of your bedroom, having seen your pristine made up bed from the hallway when he'd walked in. Steve could deal with the two of you sharing a bed, but the couch felt different. The thought of you sharing a big bed left Steve the chance to at least pretend you both kept to your own sides of it with your backs towards each other. Finding Eddie untangling himself from the sheets on the couch, and your pajamas all twisted up around your body made him put two and two together. It's wasn't a hard puzzle to solve.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," you got up and started clearing the table, desperate for this chat with Steve to end.

"Yes, we will, when I come over to peel you from your bathroom tiles, crying shell of a person," Steve seemed angry with you, spat his words with venom. You understood it was just worries from a friend, but all you wanted to do was get angry in return, even if it made no sense.

"Steve, I-" you hissed, but stopped yourself when you heard your toilet flush. It was just glares from the both of you then, eyes shooting daggers, calling each other names that couldn't reach Eddie's ears.

That afternoon, Robin had picked the three of you up and parked somewhere close to Lovers Lake. It had completely frozen over. You were about to say you should've all brought ice skates, but Robin was already on the ice. She took slow steady steps, unsure, and a little shaky. Steve followed, a lot more confident, and when the ice didn't crack when he jumped to demonstrate how thick it was, you and Eddie stepped on too. You held onto Eddie on the slippery ice and slid quite far out together, following Steve and Robin who figured out they could run without slipping or falling. They were laughing, chasing each other, and spinning in circles around you. Robin slid over and almost bumped into you, "I've not figured out how to stop yet," and took hold of both of your hands before she started running backwards, speeding up as she dragged you along. The thrill had you shrieking, and it was fun, even though there wasn't a single second you didn't think you were going to fall and hurt yourself.

When Robin slowed down a little, it gave you a chance to look over your shoulder, and you could see Steve and Eddie talk. You were too far away to hear them, too far away to even read their faces properly, but Steve seemed sad as he spoke, and Eddie seemed annoyed as he listened.

You asked Robin if she knew what they were talking about, and she giggled, "Probably confessing their undying love for each other," making you laugh. When the four of you joined each other again with flushed faces and cold fingers, you started on your way back to get off the ice, and Eddie seemed more distant.

Eddie didn't grab a hold of you the way you would've wanted him to. Eddie didn't reach for your hand to hold, even though his legs still seemed just as unsteady and wobbly. Eddie didn't wrap an arm around your shoulders as you walked back through the woods to where Robin had parked her car. And Eddie didn't want to sit in the backseat with you, calling shotgun and running the last few steps to the car to ensure his place in the front.

There was only one thing you could conclude; Steve had tried to be a good friend to you, had tried to let Eddie know to back off a bit, maybe. And you loved your good friend Steve, but could strangle him in the moment. All you had were glares for him from your spot in the car behind Eddie, which Steve pretended he didn't see, and Robin caught in the rearview mirror.

That evening, around 8pm, you all stepped into The Hideout, and you were a little shocked at the welcome you got. The welcome Eddie got. There were maybe 15 people, and the place had seemed quiet, people minding their own business, but when eyes landed on Eddie, everyone seemed up on their feet and he was hauled in like the super star he was.

Eddie was given drinks by strangers, talked to by everyone, all at once, and asked by the young band playing that night to sign their instruments. Random men patted him on the back, acted like they were long lost friends, and talked to him like they knew Eddie - talked to him like Eddie knew them.

It was overwhelming to witness, let alone be the guy who has to take it all in, and you sighed a breath of relief when you saw Steve had been able to grab a little table a bit further into the back for the four of you. Away from the bright lights that surrounded the bar. Away from the band who had already pulled Eddie up on stage and had pressed a guitar into his hands, "One song, Eddie! Come on!" and who was he to deny these young boys a little bit of fun?

When he stepped off stage after playing three, four, maybe even five songs, you touched Eddie's arm and pointed out where you were sat. Eddie just handed you the two drinks he'd already been handed by strangers and told you he'd be there in a second. Eddie took his time talking to anyone that wanted to talk to him. This was rockstar Eddie. Famous Eddie Munson. Eddie who lived somewhere high up on a pedestal. You admired him, because he was everything Eddie would've looked up to when he was younger, and now he had made it.

You admired him, were so proud of him, but you weren't sure if you necessarily liked him.

When Eddie eventually joined you, the four of you chatted, laughed, flipped coasters off the edge of the table and tried to catch them after just one rotation. Robin could stack several up and flip them all together, catching them all in one swift move, and you all tried to see if you could too, but made coasters fly instead. Eddie dared Steve to get on stage, sit behind the drumkit, give a dumb ba-dum-tss as if someone had just told him a bad joke. Steve called bluff on Robin when she said she was going to order a shot and try to get a girl's phone number. You went and got more drinks for all of you, and the bartender gave them to you for free, waved at Eddie in the back and made you wish you'd ordered more expensive drinks instead of just four beers.

The night was all giggles and pure joy, and you loved every second the four of you spent together so much, it made you forget that Eddie was leaving the next day. Eddie was there now, and that was all you really had, and all that really mattered.

Steve ended up being the first to leave and Robin dipped out not much later. It was only just past 11 when Eddie asked the owner to call a taxi for the two of you, and you finished your drinks in silence, Eddie's hand on your thigh, smiling stupid smirks and catching stolen glances. You knew where the night was headed, and you gladly let Eddie lead the way.

You made your way into your apartment by the sheer sense of intuition alone. You hadn't broken from one another since stepping into the elevator, and letting yourself into your apartment was a messy, fumbling, frustrating task, because Eddie wouldn't stop kissing you, and you liked how he pushed you up against the door too much. 

Getting to your bed eventually, you let Eddie push you back onto your mattress. A knee pressed into the springs in between your legs and he hovered over you with his hair cascading down, giving you tunnel vision. All you could see, feel, smell, hear and taste was Eddie. 

"Let's get you what you need,"

You moaned as you let him, taking all of what he was willing to give you in the moment. Eddie was all soft, caressing fingers with a caring mind that searched for a condom before getting himself anywhere near you. All attentive eyes and thoughtful lips. Until he wasn't. Until he grew rough. You could feel him slowly shift into the guy who you'd seen hold a guitar that night. The man he turned into when he stepped on stage. All confidence, all ego. You knew he wasn't just giving you what he thought you needed. Eddie was taking from you what he wanted and asked no permission, because he knew he already had it.

Eddie went for a shower after, and you hadn't hesitated to join him, unwilling to leave his side during these last few moments that you had with him. Eddie let you wash his hair, let himself melt under your massaging touch and the hot stream of water. He let you charge the last little bit of his inner battery, unaware he was draining yours simultaneously. You asked if you could braid his hair after combing it with him sat on the floor, one of your knees on either side of his shoulders, and he had just hummed, drowning in the bliss of having someone touch him like this. You french braided his hair out of his face and made sure his curl pattern would look nice when he'd undo them. Eddie curled his arms around your legs, and you knew it was the last bit of past Eddie you were going to get from him. Come tomorrow morning, he'd see one of his band members and he'd take the foot he still kept in the past and would scrape it along gravel towards his future. You had only now.

And now... here you were.

It was just past two in the morning, and Eddie was asleep in your bed whilst you were staring at him with tears escaping your eyes, willing time to slow down until it stopped entirely. You honestly really didn't mean to wake up him. You didn't. But you couldn't help the small sob that escaped you, even though you really tried, and you held your breath right after in hopes of the silence compensating it enough. 

But Eddie had heard you. Caught you, eyes blinking open and meeting the worst version of you. It was the wrong time and the wrong place to meet this version of you, and you mentally kicked yourself for it. Thick, salty tears had left your face wet, and when Eddie cupped your cheek with his hand, he felt what he hadn’t already been able to see in the dark.  

The adult in you didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to wake Eddie up any more than you had already done. The adult in you wanted Eddie to live his life for himself, the way he had been doing for the past however many years, chasing dreams he had never been able to shut up about when you were younger. The adult in you wanted success for Eddie in every single form he would accept it.  

But your teenage self kicked your adult self in the shins and shouted, "Fuck what you want, what about what I want?". You wanted to argue. To talk, at least. Be selfish in the moment and let go of what you held trapped in your heart, even if you knew Eddie wouldn’t know what to do with it – wouldn’t even really like it.  

"Stay."

Eddie didn’t hesitate, not even in this state of being half-asleep half-awake, and said, "I can’t stay."

"Please, stay. Stay for Christmas." You sniffed loudly, almost doing it on purpose to manipulate him into feeling sad for you. To show you some empathy and to indulge you in your need for him. 

"You know, I can’t stay, baby." Eddie made it sound softer that time, added a pet name, and hummed right after. 

You knew he meant he didn’t want to stay. Hawkins wasn’t Eddie’s present, or future for that matter. It was Eddie’s past; the past where he would step one foot back into every couple of months. The past he had to revisit in order to keep his future bright as he would stare at it up ahead. The second the mental image of his future started dulling, Eddie dove head first into his past, into you, until the sun would come back out. Then, he’d be off again.  

"That’s okay, I don’t want you to."

You sent mixed signals, but you meant them. Both were true. If Eddie didn't want to stay, you didn't want to keep him there. Eddie frowned with a type of confidence you didn’t appreciate.

"Lies."  

"I want you to stay if it’s not going to hold you back. I want you to stay because you want to stay. Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t..." You paused and tried to let your mind find the right words.

"Anymore." You added.

"This." You finished.

Eddie let the silence linger for longer than you liked, and the confidence you had seen in Eddie's expression faltered slightly. Just a little. Just enough for you to have seen it in the dark.

"You know I love you right?" Eddie tried saving it, but you didn't know if Eddie even knew what he was trying to save exactly.

"That doesn’t change anything. Love doesn’t make you stay for Christmas."

"I’ll stay for Christmas." Eddie moved in closer to you, pulled you into him to cuddle, to hold you as you cried. He wanted to give you this fantasy for a moment if it would get you through the night in one piece.

"You can’t." you protested, already ripping at the seams.

"I can’t." Eddie sighed.

Overnight, Eddie had changed from the guy who held you as you cried, to the guy who left your apartment with all of his things without waking you up to say goodbye.

Eddie had been there, jammed up high, all the way up in all of your senses until, very abruptly, he wasn't anymore.

Eddie was gone, and he had taken your teenage self with him, leaving you hollow, empty, barren, bleak, and lifeless.

Eddie was gone, and you let your hands reach for him across your mattress, feeling sharp pains in your chest when you didn't feel him there, your apartment was quiet.

Eddie was gone, and he had taken every trace of himself, like he had never even been there to begin with. Except for one thing. You knew it would be there. He always left one, and why would this time be different? You reached up for it without even opening your eyes, letting your fingers find it on the pillow where he'd rested his head before he'd walked out on you.

A little note.

A small message to leave you with. A message that was meant to hold you over until you'd see him again. But would you? See him again?

You cracked open eyes that were already wet and let them adjust, blink into focus, to read what words Eddie felt would excuse his absence.

"Merry Christmas x"

Eddie was gone. And so were you. Read the sequel: Over Now

-----

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[bergameow]

Happy Holidays : ) A gift for cldhead on twitter 🐸

[xgumiho]

Of course Eddie would put Christmas ornaments in his hair

My twitter Steddie Santa piece for @/parapluiedenuit 🖤 Happy holidays!!

© xgumiho | do not repost/steal/edit/crop

[steveshairychest]

Eddie believed in Santa and the Easter bunny and all those other fun things kids believed in until he was 12 because Wayne never had the heart to tell him they weren't real.

Every time he'd go to say it, the words 'Santa isn't real' just on the tip of his tongue, Eddie would look up at him with those big, innocent brown eyes and the words would turn to ash in his mouth. The poor boy had already been through so much, Wayne couldn't bear to crush his dreams of meeting Santa and asking the tooth fairy what she did with all the teeth.

When Eddie came home sobbing at age 12 because all his friends told him that Santa wasn't real, Wayne secretly thanked the universe because now he didn't have to be the one to break the news.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

If You Only Believe

Prompt Day 7: Mall and/or Job | Word Count: 4905 | Rating: T | CW: (Past) Loss, Loneliness | Tags: AU, Future Fic, Mall Santa, Christmas, Companionship, Finding Love Again, Second Acts, Happy Ending, Steve POV

This one is also available right here on AO3.

Steve sits alone at a small table near the fountain in the center of the mall a few miles from his house. He drinks his cup of coffee and eats his mall pretzel in the near silence. Weekday mornings are often peaceful, at least this early in the day. There aren't a lot of shoppers out and about, not yet.

The only real movement is from the mall walkers, making their continuous laps, and he watches them as they go by in their sweatsuits and new walking shoes. Arms pumping far faster than their legs. 

His late wife was a mall walker, once upon a time. She's been gone for a while now, but he thinks of her here, in her color-coordinated jogging suit and smiles.

He's recently realized that he's lonely, especially as it's getting to be that time of year, when the holidays are happening in full force, and he misses her. Misses being part of a team. A couple. 

Misses love. Being loved. He still loves her, but she's gone, and he's still here. 

He has love to give, and nobody to give it to. Sure, he has his adult kids, and Robin, and he loves them all desperately, but it's not the same. To not have a romantic love, well, it's another loss he's suffered.

He's a husband, with no spouse. 

Steve's not young, but he's young for a widower. That's what everybody says, anyway. You're so young. You should get back out there. He retired early, with big plans. Then his wife died, and those plans evaporated into thin air. 

They all mean well, but he doesn't have it in him to date, not again. He wouldn't even know how to start. He's not getting on some app. Not at his age. That's just not for him. So, he comes here to the mall, several times a week, just to be around other people for a little while. To hear the bustle, the talking, the laughter that comes later in the day.

To hear and see people moving about their busy lives, the world spinning faster around him, as he sits stagnant and still. 

To see little kids running around, looking in every store window, wanting everything they see on display. His kids are grown, and there aren't any grandkids. Not yet. Maybe never, and if that's how it shakes out, that'll be okay, too. 

He just wants his kids to be happy. Wants their lives to be fulfilled in all the ways that make them happiest.

He wants to be happy, himself. And he is, most days. It's not the same, but it's a different version of happiness, and he's learned to adjust. He has Robin, but she's so far away. He's considered packing up and moving closer to her, but he can't see letting go of his home. Their home. 

Not yet.

The mall is quiet today, but it won't be that way for long. Around him, they are setting up for the mall Santa display, since Thanksgiving is over and Christas is coming, once again. They're turning off the fountain, draining it and covering it, all to make room for the stage for Santa. For all the decorations. 

They're on ladders, hanging garland and huge snowflakes from the ceiling. The speakers start playing Christmas music softly throughout the entire mall.

And Steve watches it all happen, day after day, until there's finally a full stage set up and a Santa with a line of children waiting to see him.

The quiet of the mall is gone until next year. That's okay, he's had a lot of quiet lately, and he thinks it might be nice to have a little excitement for a change.

So, Steve watches and listens from a table out of the way, as the mall Santa talks to each kid, attentive and animated. He seems to have a gift for charming even the shyest of kids into engaging with him before their time is up and their picture has been taken. 

Steve remembers a lot more crying and tears when his kids were that little, and waiting their turn to see Santa. He recalls having to bribe them to even approach the larger than life man in the red suit, just to get the picture his wife so desperately wanted for the Christmas card.

If they'd had a Santa as good as this one, all the bartering might not have been needed. These kids are flocking to him, ready to climb on his knee and tell him what they want for Christmas this year. Gone are the days of wanting footballs and dolls. Everything has a brand name, and Steve recognizes almost none of them. He's too far removed from that stage of life.

Even if it seems like only yesterday. 

But he likes to listen to the mall Santa charm the kids. Likes to hear them fall in love with the magic of Christmas that he's so heavily selling to them. 

So, Steve comes back, day after day, to the mall. Drinks his coffee. Eats his mall pretzel. Watches people. The shoppers, the mall walkers, and the entertaining man in the Santa Claus suit.

He hasn't been in a mall this often since he was a teenager working in a food court ice cream shop with Robin.

Steve gets a Cinnabon today instead of a pretzel, just for a change, for a treat. He can't eat them everyday, not at this age, but every once in a while it's nice. Steve watches as the line forms to see Santa, but when Santa comes out it's a different guy than it has been. And he's far less lively.

That's okay. 

Steve knew that it wouldn't last forever, this free entertainment that he's been getting. He doesn't know what the schedule of a mall Santa might be like, or how much it might pay. By the day? The season? Are they volunteers? Do they do one week shifts, and now that lively Santa has gone, having done his duty for the season? Steve really has no idea. He's never thought about it, honestly. Mall Santas are just part of the tapestry of Christmas. December hits, and there's a Santa in the middle of every mall in America.

Steve finishes the cinnamon roll, and tries to wipe the icing out of his mustache. He's sure it's in there, it always is. He drinks the last of his coffee, and is getting ready to stand when someone approaches his table from over his shoulder.

"Mind if I join you?" the voice asks, and Steve looks up. 

There's Santa. Well, the man that has been playing Santa during the past week, anyway. He's a little thinner out of the suit, but he still has white hair, and a matching white beard. Not to mention a truly impressive handlebar mustache. Steve guesses he assumed it was fake. The beard, the mustache. But it appears to be very real, and Steve's mustache has got nothing on the one on this man's face. He could seriously twirl it like a villain, if wanted to get a side gig playing someone a little less wholesome than Santa Claus. 

But his voice is the same. 

He's in street clothes, and all traces of his red suit are gone. His little, gold wire glasses have been replaced with thick, black frames. He looks younger this way, up close. 

"Sure," Steve says, "I think denying Santa a seat might get me put on the naughty list." 

Santa laughs, but lowers his voice. 

"Shh, I'm not Santa. Not today," the man says, hooking his thumb towards the other Santa. "Today, I'm just Eddie." 

Eddie offers Steve his hand across the table, and Steve takes it. Shaking. 

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Eddie. I'm always just Steve, no secret identities here," Steve answers, smiling at the other man. 

"And here I was hoping you were secretly Batman," Eddie teases. "And for the record, I don't think you're just anything," Eddie says, and Steve blushes. He wasn't sure his face still did that.

All it takes is a little attention from a stranger, and it's like he's never socialized a day in his life. 

"Yeah, well. You've been entertaining to watch this past week. You're very good at what you do," Steve tells him, because he's not sure if mall Santas get compliments very often. But they should. At least, Eddie should. 

"Eh, it just gives me something to do in retirement," Eddie says with a chuckle. 

"I understand that," Steve says, "I've been retired five years and I still don't know what to do with myself most days. Hence, the mall pretzels."

Eddie laughs, and it's warm and lovely. Friendly. Open. Steve leans closer to him, towards the center of the table, just to hear what he has to say better over the crying kids and hustle and bustle. His hearing isn't as good as it once was, especially with a lot of background noise.

"Is today your day off?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. So, Steve continues, "And you just couldn't stay away from the place? Needed to scope out the competition?"

Eddie grins, "Something like that."

"Well, you're clearly better at it. Don't worry about that at all," Steve says, softly. "Way better."

"Thanks, Steve," Eddie answers, and takes a drink of his own coffee.

And they talk. About nothing. About everything. It's nice to talk to someone his own age, but that doesn't know him. To make a new friend, if only for the day.

They talk long enough that Eddie gets up and buys them another round of coffee. Something different this time from the Starbucks menu, and Steve likes it. He usually just gets black coffee. But trying something new is nice. He should branch out more often.

Later, Steve buys them lunch. Big slices of pizza, that they eat while they laugh and talk. He watches Eddie try to keep his sauce out of his white mustache and smiles. It's a universal problem, and he's got it easier than Eddie, that's for damn sure.

"Aren't you a little young to be playing Santa?" Steve asks, looking at him.

Eddie laughs, "I haven't been called young in a while. Thanks for that." 

"You know what I mean," Steve says, because they aren't young, but Santa feels old old. Not their age, old.

"I like the chance to put on a production. A show. It's been a while since I've gotten to do that. And being a mall Santa actually pays good, especially if you're a Real Beard," Eddie says, tugging on his white beard.

Steve smiles and nods, at least that's one question answered.

Eddie gets up to go to the bathroom, and when he comes back, he hands Steve a pretzel with a knowing look.

"I will not feel shame about the mall pretzels," Steve says, quoting David Rose and Eddie smiles and laughs. He gets the joke, and Steve grins.

"We could go see if the Suncoast has Bridget Jones's Diary?" Eddie offers, teasing him.

"Suncoast," Steve says with a laugh, "now, there's a name I haven't heard in a while. I'm not sure that's a thing anymore."

Eddie just smiles. But Steve's sure they've gone the way of Blockbusters at this point. Few and far between, if there are any left at all.

Put out to pasture, like he feels, a lot of the time.

But they eat their mall pretzels together, and talk about Schitt's Creek.

And they keep talking, until it's dinner time. Steve's gonna be stoved up once he stands again. Getting older is a bitch, that's for sure. Nothing moves as well or as fast as it used to, and you've just got to adapt.

They've both had to take pee breaks, age will do that to your prostate, but they keep sitting back down together, neither in a hurry to leave.

"You hungry again?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. 

So, they debate what to get, and settle on Chinese food. They eat and talk, and it's the best day Steve's had in a long while.

When it's time to leave, they walk towards the parking lot, and when Eddie pushes open the door for him, it's dark outside. It's always a little disorienting to enter a mall during broad daylight and leave after dark. 

Steve turns to Eddie.

"Thanks for keeping me company today. I had fun." 

"I had fun, too. If you want to come later in the day tomorrow, we could always do it again after my shift on the sleigh is over? If that works for your schedule." 

Steve nods, because he doesn't have a schedule, not anymore, and that sounds great. He'd love to spend more time with Eddie. 

So he does. Everyday he shows up, and watches Eddie be Santa for a while, and then waits for him to change clothes afterwards to meet up with him. Then they eat together. They're working their way around the entire food court, trying every stall at least once. Some things have been good, some others not so much, but they're definitely having a good time. 

Steve's having fun, and maybe making a new friend.

He learns that Eddie is divorced. He had a husband, and now he doesn't. Steve understands. He had a wife, and now he doesn't. Different losses, but they've both been sent out adrift, alone, after years of having a partner by their side.

That's a universal feeling, he's pretty sure.

After they eat, sometimes they sit and have coffee, and other days they'll walk through the mall, window shopping. They discuss the stuff they see, the stuff they remember from their childhoods that are long gone, now. They talk about the state of the world, and how they don't know how to fix it.

And, as Christmas approaches, they stop window shopping, and do some regular shopping. Steve buys gifts for Robin, for his kids, for his mailman. He stops at the Hickory Farms kiosk and buys a meat and cheese gift set to drop off at his former office. 

Eddie buys things, too. He doesn't have kids, but he has friends he talks about. He buys a tin of popcorn from a kiosk, for his weekly poker game. 

And it's the best month Steve's had in a very long time.

"I have a mall friend," Steve says into the phone, sitting down in his recliner to talk to Robin. They talk a lot, but they always make time on Wednesday nights. It's been that way for decades, a constant. Tradition.

"What's a mall friend?" Robin asks, immediately curious. 

"A friend at the mall," he answers, like, obviously. If he had an aquarium friend, he would have said so.

"Are they a real or imaginary friend?" she questions, sounding suspicious. 

"A little of both," he teases, then adds, "he's the mall Santa." 

"You're friends with the mall Santa?" she repeats, disbelief in her voice. 

"Yeah? He's a real person under the red suit, you know. His name is Eddie." 

"Are you one of his elves? Are you sitting on his lap?" she teases. 

"No!" he says, too loud and too fast. 

Goddammit. 

Now she's gonna make it into a thing. It's not a thing, not really. But she's never letting this go now, and he's the only one to blame. He shouldn't have said anything at all. Eddie and him don't talk outside of their afternoons in the mall. They haven't exchanged numbers, or made any plans.

Eddie is his mall friend. That's the most accurate description.

"Steve…" she trails off.

"I like him, of course I like him, but it's not that easy. The kids aren't ready for me to date anybody else, let alone a man. Let alone a mall Santa," Steve says, rationalizing this situation.

"Your kids would love for you to be happy. You know that, and I know that," Robin says. "And in what world would they care that he's a man? I know the kids you raised. They love me and their Aunt Penny. So, that's just an excuse you're making."

Steve makes a non-committal sound.

"Steve…"

"We aren't like that, Robin. We're just mall friends. That's it."

"Well, what happens when Christmas is over, dingus? Then what? Is he also the mall Easter Bunny?"

Steve smiles at the thought. He'd never considered that to be a possibility, and now it's all he can think about. Eddie in that giant bunny suit. Huge, pastel polka dot bow tie around his neck.

"He's not the Easter Bunny," he answers. 

"Send me a pic of him, I need to see this Santa," Robin demands.

"I don't have a picture of him. Why would I have a picture of him?" Steve asks.

"Well, you could have a professional one taken with him," Robin suggests.

"Yeah, and get banned from the mall for life for being a weird pervert? No thanks, Rob," Steve says.

"I'm just saying, if you like him, tell him that."

"It's not like that. We're friends. Mall friends," he says, again.

"So you've said," Robin says, sarcastically, and he changes the subject. It doesn't want to talk about Eddie, the mall Santa friend, right now.

Christmas Eve is bustling in the mall, full of last-minute shoppers rushing around to get everything they need before the stores shutter for the night.

Steve watches as Eddie pays attention to all the kids that are making their list minute wishes known. Their stressed parents nearby, worrying how they're going to make these last requests happen with so little time left in the shopping season.

Eddie stays until the last kid has been greeted, and then disappears into the back, only to reappear later, Eddie. Not Santa. 

They eat at the last stall they haven't tried yet, a little stand slinging cheesesteaks. Steve's gonna have heartburn from the peppers and onions afterwards, surely, but they're really good.

Steve's not ready for the month to end, but it's time to go. Things end all the time before you're ready. Steve knows that, intimately.

"What are your plans for tonight?" Eddie asks, as they make their way out of the mall for the last time before Christmas is over for another year. It's a weirdly bittersweet feeling. Steve's enjoyed Christmas again, in a way he hasn't since, before.

"Not much. My kids won't be here until tomorrow. You?" 

"Nothing much on my end, either." 

"Well, it was a lot of fun watching you be Santa, Eddie," Steve says, pausing by his car. 

"It was fun hanging out with you, too, Steve." 

And they part ways, like they have every night before this one. With little fanfare.

Steve sits in his car and the entire drive home he wonders if he should have offered Eddie his phone number or email address. Something, anything, so they could have stayed in touch. But they've spent a few weeks together, and that's never come up. Eddie would have surely offered or asked, if he wanted that kind of contact. 

So, Steve is just grateful for what this was. A temporary friendship, when he needed one desperately. 

"Merry Christmas Eve," Robin says, and Steve settles into his chair. 

"Backatcha," he answers, stirring his cup of coffee. He bought some fancy creamer after Eddie turned him on to all the different kinds of coffee out there. 

"So, how's your mall friend?" Robin asks.

"Fine, his last Santa shift was today," Steve says.

"...and?"

"And what? Christmas is over," Steve says, sipping his coffee.

"Steve! Please tell me you got his number, or he took yours. Something. Anything!" she shouts, and he sips his coffee, trying to ignore her outburst.

But his stomach is tight. He's pretty sure he fucked up. He should have done one of those things, and now it's too late. Santa is gone for the year, and has taken Eddie with him.

"Seriously? You've been dating him for a month and you just, what? Left?"

He scoffs, "I haven't been dating him for a month. I'm not dating him at all. If hanging out with someone is the metric for dating, I have bad news about our relationship."

She laughs, but then is quiet, "I wish you'd have done something to keep him around, Steve. Friend, or more."

"Yeah," Steve says, "me too, I think."

Steve doesn't go back to the mall the day after Christmas. Or the day after that. He doesn't want to know that Eddie's not there.

But, on the third day, he goes and buys his coffee and has his mall pretzel in hand, when he spots the back of Eddie's head sitting at a table. 

Steve smiles and makes a beeline towards him, coming up to him from behind him, already talking as he rounds his shoulder, "Hey, I didn't expect-" he starts, only to realize it isn't Eddie at all. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else." 

"Who? Santa Claus?" the familiar voice asks, full of joy. 

Steve does a double take. The voice is Eddie, but the face…

Eddie runs his hand over his clean shaven cheeks, grinning up at Steve. 

"It takes six months to grow out, and about six minutes to shave off," Eddie says. 

Holy shit.

Steve laughs, and sits down across from him, just staring.

"That is one helluva transformation," Steve says, continuing to stare. 

"Were you only friends with me for my badass beard and mustache? Are you a Santa groupie? Is that what's happening here?" Eddie teases, his eyes soft. The eyes, those are the same.

"You got me. The red suit does it for me, and I always choose all my friends by their facial hair. It's a strict requirement."

Eddie laughs, and it's nice to see so much more of his face. He's handsome. More than Steve even realized.

And they talk, and eat, and it's the same as it was all the days prior.

"Do you play poker?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods. At least in theory. It's been a while. 

"You have plans tonight? It's my weekly game with some friends. The more the merrier, if you want to come?" 

Steve should say no, shouldn't let Eddie pity him. But he finds himself nodding at the invitation, all the same. 

"Great," Eddie says, seeming delighted, "let me text you the address. And that way you'll have my number, if you get lost."

And just like that, they aren't just mall friends. They're phone friends now, too.

Steve nervously walks up to the door, but he doesn't have to even ring the bell, because Eddie is swinging open the front glass door with a smile.

"Hey, glad you made it," Eddie says, ushering him inside. 

He hears chatter, and laughter, and it's warm inside. In the dining room, at the table, there are three women holding hands of cards. 

One of them hops up when she sees him, and the rest follow. She's short as can be, but smiling up at him. 

"This is Di," Eddie says, "and that is Mel and Carla," Eddie adds, pointing at each woman. "This is Steve."

"Hi, it's so nice to meet you," Steve says, and he had assumed Eddie's poker game was with men, but now he realizes that was a stupid assumption to make. 

They all fawn over him for a minute, which makes him feel silly. But they seem fun. 

"Okay, you old hens, leave him alone," Eddie says with a laugh, and puts his hand on the small of Steve's back. Guiding him towards the basement stairs.

Eddie leads him down into the basement of the house, and oh, there are three other older men sitting around the green felt table. Eddie makes introductions. 

"Gareth, Jeff and Charles," Eddie says, pointing at each man

"Don't you get him calling me Charles, you asshole," the largest of the three men says. 

Eddie laughs, rocking on his feet. Seeing Eddie so giddy makes Steve smile. He's ornery, and Steve's a little smitten.

"What should I call you, then?" Steve asks the man who clearly doesn't want to be called Charles.

"Goodie," they all say in unison. 

"Okay, Goodie it is. I'm Steve," and they all nod politely. 

Steve sits down and is dealt in. 

"Did you survive the welcome wagon?" Jeff asks, looking over at Steve. Steve smiles and nods.

"They have to play upstairs, because they are way too cutthroat for us. They've been put in a permanent timeout," Eddie says, and that's a hilarious thought.

Steve looks around the table. He wonders what it's like to have this many people around you all the time. It must be nice, even if it's only one night a week. To be in a full house, again.

"So, you're Eddie's pretzel friend?" Gareth asks from his right side, passing Steve a bowl full of mall kiosk popcorn, and Steve laughs.

The mall friend and the pretzel friend. They really are a pair.

"That's me," Steve says with a laugh, and looks at the cards in front of him. He's been dealt a pretty good hand, he realizes.

And it's fun, and easy, this poker game. They give each other shit, and don't seem to be on their best behavior just because there's a guest at the table, and Steve likes that. Loves that this is just a normal poker game, and he slides into it like he's always been here. He might not know them very well, but watching Eddie, he realizes he does know him. This Eddie is the same Eddie he's spent hours with, in that mall.

Steve lays down his next bet, eats his popcorn, and makes some more new friends, hopefully.

He wins, and he loses, and it's fun. All of it.

When the night is over, he's glad he came. Really glad.

"Next week is casino night," Gareth says, "so, get ready."

"Casino night?" Steve asks, and he's picturing them all sitting around in green dealer visors, spinning a plastic roulette wheel.

"All of us go to the casino right outside town for the night. Eat a nice dinner together, gamble a little, have a few drinks, and then we stay in the attached hotel. It's a lot of fun," Eddie says, "you should definitely come with us."

Steve doesn't want to crash their party, especially one that is obviously so couple-based, but with the way Eddie is smiling at him, Steve just nods. It does sound like fun.

At the end of the night, Eddie walks Steve out to his car that's parked along the curb. Eddie stuffs his hands in his coat pockets, and rocks on his feet, like he's nervous. Steve just watches him, curious.

"Thanks for inviting me, that was fun," Steve says, and it was. He likes Eddie's friends, he thinks.

"Of course, you're welcome every week. Same time, same place," Eddie rambles a little and Steve smiles. He might just take him up on that offer. It might be nice to have something to look forward to every week. Wednesdays are for Robin, but maybe Thursdays can be for Eddie and poker.

"I might just do that," Steve says, smiling at Eddie.

"And I hope you'll come to the casino with us, too," Eddie says, and Steve nods. He thinks he will.

And then they fall into a soft quietness, just looking at each other. Eddie looks like he has something to say, but he's just standing there, frozen. So, Steve reaches out, and squeezes Eddie's arm through his coat sleeve, "Thanks for inviting me."

And then, Eddie is finally talking.

"If I'm reading this wrong, just tell me and I'll shut up, but would you be interested in getting dinner together some time? You know, outside of the mall?" Eddie asks, and he looks far too nervous for a man that's lived nearly this many decades.

"You're not reading it wrong at all," Steve says, smiling at him, "I'd really like that a lot."

Eddie grins, and it's still funny to see that now that Steve can see his whole mouth. It's a great mouth. With full lips that are just begging to be kissed. 

But Steve hasn't kissed anybody new in, goddamn, what? Over thirty years? Even the thought of doing so is a little daunting. 

He doesn't have time to dither long though, because Eddie steps forward, and his intent is clear, so Steve leans into it. Into Eddie. Into the moment. 

It's chaste, and brief, but Steve feels warm inside. His heart is racing, and he didn't realize that was something that could still happen at his advanced age and not just be the signs of an imminent heart attack. 

They part nearly as quickly as they joined, but Eddie is smiling, right up close. So Steve kisses him again, a little longer this time, and yeah, this is what he's been longing for, he suddenly realizes. This kind of connection. He didn't know he could be lucky enough to get it more than once in a lifetime. But he's realizing that he can have a second act. He just needed a little intermission to get his bearings, to adjust to his new reality, but right now, with Eddie, he definitely feels like that is possible. 

Anything is possible, if you only believe in it. 

And Steve, he believes.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

[italiansteebie]

"i've got a job for you."

steve blinked at the curly headed teen in front of him. "sorry?" he asked, arching a brow.

"i've got a job for you! look. it pays well, and it's once a week! just say yes dude." dustin cheered, curls shaking as he nodded.

steve sighed.

-

and that's how he found himself, a week later, wearing a big red suit, and a scratchy fake beard. "i'm going to kill that kid." he grumbled under his breath. he plastered a wide smile on to his face, "ho ho ho!" he cheered, waving up the first child in line, "merry christmas! what would you like santa to bring you for christmas this year?" he asked, deepening his voice, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

he listened to the child's answer and sent her on her way, before beckoning the next kid.

as much as he hated to admit it, he was actually having fun. that is until he caught a glimpse of long curly hair.

"so this is what ho ho harrington gets up to on friday nights, hmm?" eddie smirk, sauntering up to the chair, dustin trailing behind him. "you," he said, pointing to the teen. "why didn't you tell me i was going to be playing santa?" he whispered harshly, tugging him down by the shirt. "because i thought you wouldn't do it! now, move eddie, i need to tell santa what i want for Christmas." dustin scoffed, pushing the metal head out of the way, before plopping down onto santa-steve's lap, and smiling wide towards claudia, who was standing in front of them with the camera.

"well get in there, eddie!" claudia laughed, motioning for him to get closer. "yeah, come sit on santa's lap," steve teased, grinning at him, watching as eddie rolled his eyes and shuffled closer, throwing an arm around steve.

"everyone say merry christmas!" claudia cheered, smiling from behind her camera.

-

hours later, after steve had rid himself of the suit and beard, he and eddie lounged on the couch. eddie lazily petting his hair, before he paused, "does that make me mrs. clause?"

steve shifted to face him, "you are so annoying,"

"but you love me,"

"yeah, i do," steve smiled, leaning in for a kiss, scoffing as eddie smacked his ass, "then go make me cookies mrs. clause!" steve teased, pushing himself off of eddie's chest.

eddie followed him, pressing another kiss into his lips, "whatever you need to get ready for christmas santa," he said before trotting to the kitchen.

steve paused for a moment before he heard eddie start to rummage around, and he stood, "wait! eddie- don't. my kitchen!" he cried, following him, but too little, too late, there was already flour all over the floor.

"so much for mrs. clause."

[hellfireloserclub]

Eddie looked at Jonathan and Nancy like they had grown an extra set of heads, on what planet did they think that he was going to say yes to such a ridiculous request? Sure he wasn’t one to shy away, once a drama brat always a drama brat, but there were lines that even he wouldn’t cross, and he was by no means a pin up. Nobody would be rushing to put him as the centrefold in Playgirl any time soon.

Yet here was Wheeler batting her eyelashes at him and grinning at him from behind her bottle of lemonade and he just knew she had some sort of scheme plotting behind them pretty blue peepers.

“Oh, come on Eddie, we only need one more person to step up because Hopper dropped out. It's for a good cause, it’s not as if we're asking you to strip, it's going to be tasteful.”

“Yeah dude, I have zero need to see your junk.” Jonathan added as an afterthought.

Nancy started flicking through the file on her knee. Eddie caught sight of some of the mockups, Argyle making the perfect Mr July peeking out from behind his surfboard.

“Steve did one.” Nancy said nonchalantly, ah so this was her angle, the petty rivalry between Eddie and Steve, well played Wheeler well played.

“Okay, I'll do it.” God he was so easy to manipulate, stupid Munson characteristic, “But I call October. At least that way I retain some of my credibility as a creature of the night.”

“No can do, Steve already did a shoot for October.” Jonathan said apologetically, of course Stevie had nicked the best month Eddie thought, mentally preparing himself for the worst. Please not December please not December… “All I have left is December.”

Eddie set them both with glare, why did he have to be so competitive? He never used to be this bad, Steve had really brought the worst out in him. First the quest to be Dustin's favourite big brother and now this … it was war.

“Fine, but I am not wearing a Santa suit.”

[extocancer]

“Dreamin' Of A Smoky Mountain Christmas”

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler, Argyle/Jonathan Byers, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Additional Tags:

Christmas fic, Friends to Lovers, idiots to lovers, one bed, Forced Proximity, Snowed In, Love Confessions, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Recreational Drug Use, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Oblivious Steve Harrington, Oblivious Eddie Munson, fellas is it gay to dance with your homie to dolly partons 1984 christmas album?, the love is requited theyre just idiots, Modern Era, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), First Kiss, its the smoky mountains! obviously!, a tiny bit cracky ngl, Cuddling & Snuggling, Making Out, alcohol consumption, mountain cabins, Christmas Vacation, Competence Kink, Hand Kink, Body Worship, Frottage, Praise Kink, Mutual Pining, these fuckers are so awkward that its almost cute, dont read this if youre lactose intolerant, so much cheese its not even funny, very light angst, lots of cute to balance it, Steve harrington is stressed out!!!!, dont worry for too long Eddie kisses it better, Librarian Steve, Tattoo Artist Eddie, Mutual Masturbation, Blow Jobs, but tender, Monster Dong Munson

Summary:

Steve and Eddie are forced to face their oblivious but very mutual six year crushes when they get snowed in at a smoky mountain cabin five hundred miles from home over Christmas week.

OR

Steve learns to believe in Christmas miracles.

[minniesmelody]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜’𝐬

𝑨/𝑵: 𝖨 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁．𝖡𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁．𝖠 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁，𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌． 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁．𝖤𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒！

✿ 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿

⚘ 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍

❄︎ 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 （𝗌𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝖼， 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇， 𝖾𝗍𝖼）

𝙀𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 :

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘛𝘺𝘱𝘦 － @galaxy-siren ✿

𝘚𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 － @galaxy-siren ✿

𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘳 － @loveshotzz ✿

𝘏𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 － @galaxy-siren ✿

𝘓𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 － @lokis-army-77 ✿ ⚘

𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 － @jules-hadalittlelamb ⚘

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦́？－ @eddiesguitarskill2 ⚘

𝙂𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙝 𝙀𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 :

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 － @bookshelf-dust ⚘

𝘎𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘴 － @bookshelf-dust ⚘ ✿

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 :

𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 － @dracowars ⚘

𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 - @dmslvt ✿

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 － @mellifluousart ✿

𝘊𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 － @dracoslittleangel ❄︎

𝘽𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙛 :

𝘏𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 － @theelfbernard ✿

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦 － @storiesaboutthatonecharacter ✿ ⚘

𝘕𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 － @j-nope-not-today ✿

[rosiesramblings]

Growing Out of It

Fandom: Stranger Things, Steddie

WC: 1.1k

A/N: Here is my squealing santa submission for @apricots-and-dynamite !!!!! Happy holidays! I hope you like your fic! And thank you to Hypah for organizing this whole thing this year. 10/10

It was a typical summer day in Forest Hills trailer park. Far too hot to stay inside the stifling trailer, Steve was lying on an old beach towel in the shade, lazily watching Eddie and Dustin wrestle as though it wasn’t hot enough to fry an egg on concrete. Max sat near Steve, fiddling with her Walkman, and Robin and Nancy were both holding cold cans of Coke against the backs of their necks as they chattered about college.

Steve didn’t know it yet, but he was about to make, quite possibly,  the biggest mistake of his life. Actually, scratch that, rewind - the biggest mistake barring anything before he stopped being an asshole.

A shriek from Dustin indicated that Eddie had decided to play dirty, and the giggles and protests that followed soon after told Steve that Eddie was inclined to absolutely wreck the brat, summer heat be damned. Steve smiled to himself as he secretly basked in the sound of Dustin acting like a normal kid.

“You’re smiling like a weirdo,” Max said, nudging Steve with her flip flop. “You’d better not be getting all sentimental over there, Harrington.”

“Why, Max Mayfield, are you promoting toxic masculinity?” Steve asked, running a hand through his damp hair and proud that he remembered the phrase from when Eddie explained it last week.

“Uh, no. I don’t like anyone getting emotional, not just men. I am all for everyone shutting the fuck up, all the time,” Max declared, and Steve cackled.

Eddie finally released Dustin with a ruffle to his hair, and the boy stumbled toward Steve, still sporting a wobbly smile. “Steve, Eddie’s being mean to me,” Dustin whined.

Eddie snorted, “Lies and slander! Libel! You just need to learn to respect your elders, my little sheep.”

Steve smiled, reaching out to poke Dustin’s side. “Seriously, Dust, your life is going to be sooo much easier once you grow out of that.”

Dustin’s brows furrowed. “Grow out of what?”

“Being ticklish,” Steve said, gesturing to Dustin like it should have been obvious.

From behind Dustin, Steve registered an unfamiliar look on Eddie’s face.

“What are you talking about, Steve?” Dustin looked at him like he had suggested Dustin try to grow wings and fly. 

“I’m saying, once you grow out of being ticklish, Eddie will have to find another way to torture you,” Steve explained, throwing an arm over his eyes to signal it was the end of the conversation.

However, he could still hear the mischief in Eddie’s voice, sounding much closer than he had been a few moments ago, “Harrington…” he said, slowly, and the warning bells went off in Steve’s mind. He opened his eyes and pushed himself up on his elbows, finding a slow grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “Are you telling me you ‘grew out’ of being ticklish?”

“Uh, yeah? Didn’t everyone?” Steve looked around nervously. “It’s a kid thing. We all grow out of it eventually.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie said, still grinning. “And when was the last time someone tried to tickle you?”

Steve furrowed his brow, trying to figure out how that would be relevant. “I don’t know, dude, Tommy and I would play-fight in middle school, but probably not since then.”

Off to the side, Nancy and Robin had paused their conversation and were observing the scene before them, interested. Robin had a grin, not unsimilar to Eddie’s, creeping up on her face, while Nancy looked a little like a sad puppy, the way she often did when Steve brought up his childhood.

“Really? It’s been that long?” Nancy asked quietly.

“Yeah? But I really don’t see what that has to - oof!” The breath was knocked out of Steve as Eddie suddenly plopped down on top of him, knees on either side of Steve’s hips. “Eddie? What-“ Steve jackknifed up into an almost-sitting position when Eddie clawed at his tummy.

Three thoughts occurred to Steve simultaneously. First, he was very close to Eddie’s lips, and a large part of him would like to be even closer. Second, he might have missed the mark with the whole ‘I grew out of being ticklish,’ idea. Third, if the evil grin on Eddie’s face was any indication, Steve was absolutely fucked.

“Quite an interesting theory you’ve got there, Stevie,” Eddie drawled as he pushed Steve back down. “However, everyone knows that a good theory needs to be tested.”

Steve was so focused on how hot it was that Eddie had him pinned that he barely registered what Eddie was saying. Without any more preamble, Eddie darted both hands into Steve’s underarms and wiggled his fingers.

Steve’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “FUCK!” he exclaimed before collapsing into laughter. Holy shit, it felt like his nerves were crackling with electricity. This was far from Tommy’s quick pokes from middle school wrestling matches. This was so, so much worse.

“What is this?” Steve managed to ask between rounds of snickers.

Eddie snorted at how baffled Steve sounded, even through his laughter. “This, Stevie, is evidence that you were wrong.” Then, he wretched his hands out of Steve’s underarms and scribbled over his ribs and sides.

Steve laughed harder, squirming fruitlessly to try and escape Eddie’s fingers. “Oh my GOD,” he gasped out when Eddie found a spot in the middle of his ribcage that made him arch his back helplessly.

Eddie laughed along with him. “Want to rethink that hypothesis there, sweetheart?” One hand still at his ribs, Eddie reached up to flutter his fingers at Steve’s neck, which made him scrunch up his shoulders with a giggle and pull his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Steve’s mouth shot open moments later with a shriek of, “Dustin!” before his cackling was redoubled. Eddie looked down and saw that Dustin had latched onto the muscle above Steve’s knee and was squeezing ruthlessly.

“Ooooo, did the shrimp find a bad spot?” Eddie teased, voice syrup-sweet. Steve shook his head back and forth, cheeks darkening.

“Fuck OFF,” Steve yelped, squirming harder now that he seemed to have remembered they weren’t alone.

“Still think you grew out of it?” Eddie taunted as he took the hint and gave one final scribble to Steve’s ribs before rolling to lay down beside him. Steve, still giggling, curled up on his side and hugged his knees to his chest. Dustin ruffled Steve’s hair, and Steve was too preoccupied with chasing away the last of the ghost tickles to dodge his hand.

Catching his breath, Steve gazed at Eddie. “Yeah, I might have missed the mark on that one,” he said seriously, before breaking into a grin. “Although,” he said, scrambling to straddle Eddie. “If I didn’t grow out of it… I would bet that you didn’t either, Munson.”

Eddie just smiled.