Prompt Day 29: “Double your pleasure, double your fun!” | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: language, implied cheating (not steddie) | POV: Steve | Pairing(s): Steddie | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Popstar Steve Harrington, enemies to lovers, AU – no Upside Down, fuck that guy to i’m going to fuck that guy
notes: part one!! see tomorrow’s prompt for part two
Steve feels the hot flush crawling up his neck, and he seriously considers a) murdering the pervy photographer whose idea this was, and his manager who agreed to it, b) throwing a popstar-worthy tantrum, or c) suffocating himself with one of the velvety pillows strewn around.
Maybe all of the above.
“Settle, pet,” Steve’s personal torment croons, sliding his hand off Steve’s jaw to his throat, pressing his thumb against Steve’s pulse point and creating the illusion of choking Steve.
Eddie Munson is gorgeous, talented, the lead guitarist of a massive metal band, and the absolute bane of Steve’s existence for years.
“Fuck you,” Steve hisses. He’s sprawled on the settee. His arm aches from holding the prop baseball bat with rusty nails through the head that the photographer gave him, and he’s pissy, and doesn’t want to put up with Eddie’s shit today.
Eddie’s leaning over the back of the couch, that hand at Steve’s throat, and they’re supposed to look like they’re fighting – the battle of rock vs pop – but in, like, a subversive, sexy way (some artistic bullshit about the thin line between love/hate and metal/pop).
Yeah, Steve decides, as Eddie’s fingers tighten imperceptibly, in a way that steals Steve’s breath, and he bites his lush bottom lip, and the sounds of the camera clicking speeds up, Jonathan’s a fuckin’ perve. If there’s anyone in this studio that Steve hates more than Eddie Munson, it’s probably Jonathan – an admittedly great photographer, but kinda odd and way too friendly with Steve’s powerhouse actress, on-off girlfriend, Nancy.
“You couldn’t handle me, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, a wicked gleam in his eye. They despise each other – Steve is everything Eddie hates about the industry, Steve hates Eddie’s preachy, holier than thou ‘music is the purest form of art’ attitude – but Eddie’s way of demonstrating that has always been riling Steve up. Steve hates that Munson gets under his skin so easily, but he just drives him fucking mad – it’s like he knows every button to push to make Steve angry. Steve has nowhere near the same ability to piss Eddie off, but his disdain is clear in the way he disparages everything from the songwriters the label forces Steve to use, to the uber-polished preppy look they push Steve into all the time.
Steve’s flush burns hotter, but he gets a brief reprieve as they switch the scene; they’re set up in a position that’s euphemistic for being post-coital, back-to-back on the ground, the bat laying across Steve’s lap and Eddie’s head leaning on his shoulder. They’re both given lit cigarettes, and the makeup girls quickly paint fake blood and bruises on their faces.
“How’s Wheeler?” Eddie asks, an edge in his tone. They’re basically being ignored now that they’re ready – Jonathan and his swarm, including Steve and Corroded Coffin’s respective managers, are all double checking the lighting and the framing.
“None of your fucking business,” Steve snaps.
He feels Eddie’s chuckle against his back, and pointedly keeps his gaze straight ahead when Eddie tilts his head on Steve’s shoulder to look at him.
“Ah, so you’re off again.” He lifts his head off Steve’s shoulder briefly, looking over at the crew, then drops it back down. “Creepo?”
“Fuck you,” Steve repeats, but with far less heat. He doesn’t even want to know how Eddie knows those rumours – if it’s reaching the metal scene, then Nancy and Jonathan are being way too goddamn public with it. Hot shame swirls in Steve’s gut.
Eddie laughs again. “My modern day Shakespeare!”
Jonathan is ready, and he snaps away. When they’re finally done and allowed to get up, Steve immediately tries to shove away and get the fuck away from everyone – especially Eddie Munson – but the devil himself catches him by the elbow.
“If you wanna talk…” he says, and for one heartbeat, he doesn’t have that shit-stirring expression on his face. Something in Steve’s chest twinges. But then, in a blink, Eddie’s wicked smirk is back, and he says, “You can always call me. It’d do you good to hang out with real musicians for once.”
Steve hates him.
Nancy’s on his arm, and flashbulbs are popping as they walk the red carpet. Steve’s got the smile that’s at least 40% of why he’s as famous as he is plastered on, but he doesn’t feel it at all.
There’d been pap pictures, in one of those stupid trashy tabloid mags, and technically they’d been innocent – just Nancy and Jonathan, out to lunch – but their knees had been touching under the table, and their hands too close, and Steve feels fucking sick. He’s so tired, and he feels like an idiot, again. He’s so fucking done.
Further up the carpet, Corroded Coffin are horsing around, playing up for the cameras, having the times of their lives, and Eddie is chiefest among them. His life-ruining dimples are on full display, along with the long column of his neck when he tips his head back to laugh. Steve’s mouth feels dry.
Inside, Steve sees him break off towards the bathroom, and he quickly excuses himself to Nance and follows, like something invisible and inexorable is pulling him along.
Eddie looks up from the sink, surprised, and the second Steve’s quick glance around tells him they’re alone, he grabs Eddie by the shoulders and shoves him against the wall.
“The fuck, Harrington?” Eddie snaps, though he does let out a little grunt when Steve’s hips meet his.
Steve leans in, but Eddie’s big, ringed hand lands on his throat and holds him at bay, squeezing lightly. For a long beat, they stare at each other; Steve shaking a little, Eddie wide-eyed, lips parted.
“This isn’t a ‘double your pleasure, double your fun’ situation Steve,” Eddie says eventually, and the mask finally drops away, just a little. Just enough for Steve to see the edge of vulnerability in his eyes. “You can’t have me and her.”
Perpetually single lavender marriage Stobin who never inform their dates that they're in a lavender marriage and instead just casually drop that they're married.
Their dates either (1) end abruptly, (2) end badly, (3) end in a conversation about threesomes (what?), or (4) ends because their date is way too into the idea of cheating.
Hindsight is 20/20.
These two have not made it to four because they don't seem to realize that they're doing this to themselves.
Honestly, it's Nancy's favorite topic of conversation when they do their monthly meet up. She could listen to these two bitch about their abysmal dating lives all day.
She made Jonathan promise not to tell them and to let them figure it out themselves (she hopes they never do).
Eddie finds a battered and beaten Steve Harrington wandering around in the wake of the mall fire and takes him home where it becomes apparent that (1) he's been drugged and (2) Eddie is in no way equip to handle this.
Eddie is gathering up any supplies he can find, watching him out of the corner of his eyes, "We doing okay, buddy?"
Steve breaks his staring contest with the middle distance, "Hey."
"Hey," Eddie echoes back.
"I know you like. You look up to me an' ev'thing," Steve slurs. "But don't. You're like - you're great."
Eddie just.
Eddie...
"What?"
"You're great," Steve repeats, insists, almost turns towards him but his ribs are broken. "You're great jusssssss' like you. Jus' the way you are."
"Um..." Eddie says. "Thanks? You wanna get cleaned up now?"
"Yes."
So.
Eddie walks over. He uses what supplies they have to clean, disinfect, and bandage this fallen...sailor. He's about done when Steve breaks his suddenly gains awareness and pulls back. He looks at Eddie and frowns, "Wait."
"What?"
"You're not Dustin," Steve says. "You're Eddie Munson. I waz talking to Dus'in. Where-"
"Just me, Harrington. It's just been me."
"Oh."
"Dus'in shouldn't change," Steve reiterated. "You should change."
(runs and hides. I'm so sorry. It was literally the first thing I thought and. Anyway.)
Okay, I really liked this one, actually.
“...and it is my great joy, nay, my honor, to introduce you to…”
Eddie hates this.
It’s fake. It’s all fake. It’s been fake for longer than he really remembers. He couldn’t put a finger on when, exactly, he became this thing. This walking, talking poser who reads shit off a screen written to sound like him, but isn’t him.
“...someone who has changed my life. I know there has been a lot of talk lately, and the rumors are true.”
One nosey pap, getting a picture taken with Chrissy Cunningham outside his San Francisco apartment, saying goodbye. He was supposed to be a metal star. Famous, sure, but despite it all, not because of it. A person everyone couldn’t help but know, even if they secretly thought he was the spawn of Satan. He liked it that way.
Sure, there was compromise. The label owned him. They chose his outfits, his photoshoots, who he got seen hanging out with, but it was fine. It was still his image, the guy who spat in the face of conformity.
And now, his label is all about “good PR,” which apparently means “dating” a pop star who is supposed to be his one and only friend outside of the band in this industry. He hates how fast she jumped on this. He hates what they’re making him say. He hates the words on this god damn teleprompter.
“...so in commemoration of my new relationship with the one and only, the uh, one and only…” Oh fuck, I can not do this.
There are people staring at him, so many. The murmuring starts the instant he goes off script, chaos descending before he’s even said anything real.
Well, if it's fake they want, then fine. Fake they can have.
He straightens his spine, the devil may care smile he forgot how to wear naturally returns to him. The teleprompter is paused, and why not make good use of it? He stands, spreading his arms wide.
“In commemoration of my new relationship with the one and only Steve H, I will henceforth be dropping my affiliation with Vile Records and running away with the love of my life.” He grabs the guy behind the teleprompter, the only one in the whole studio that didn’t look like he was losing his mind, and yanks.
Eddie’d only gotten a glimpse of his name tag, Steve H, between glances at the screen, but up close, he’s a real looker. Angelic, even. Perfect hazel eyes wide with shock. Way to go, Eddie. He gets so caught up in examining this absolute catch he just plucked from the depths that he almost forgets what comes next.
He turns back toward the camera, linking his hands with Steve’s to keep him from running, though he doesn’t seem to be trying to move away. Must be the shock.
“So, with deepest sympathies, fuck off!” He flips the camera the bird, and then he runs like hell.
“What the fuck?!” Steve shouts, but doesn’t let go of his hand.
Several PAs, assistants, and managers try to block them on the way out, but he’s an unstoppable force for the first time in years. He’s out. He’s blown up his career, probably got himself blacklisted, and he’s never felt better.
They manage to make it around the block, ducking into an ally. Eddie needs to catch his breath, his feats of athleticism relegated to the stage, not running. Steve, on the other hand, seems fine. Eddie is starkly aware of how sweaty his palm is.
“Hey, what the fuck, man?” Steve asks. He really is handsome, with a nice, smooth voice.
Eddie should apologize. He should give the guy ten grand and hail him a cab and wish him all the best. Instead, he opens his big mouth, and in retrospect, it’s probably the best decision he ever makes.
Reaching for a star ✨ This one turned out christmassy and summery at the same time. Did you know that Christmas in July is a thing? Consider this my contribution 🎄
Love the idea that Lyonel refuses to tell Dunk that he's too heavy for anything at all.
This means that lyonel frequently gets light-headed after Dunk collapses into the post-O glow after riding him, as Dunk's full weight on his chest is mostly stopping Lyonel from breathing. Hauls Dunk down onto his lap and deals with his legs instantly falling asleep. Threw his back out trying to lift Dunk to fuck him against a wall. Got his nose broken after convincing Dunk to put his full weight on his face so Lyonel could eat him out(did try to continue with the broken nose but Dunk refused).
This is partly because Lyonel doenst want to play into Dunks self-imgae issues. Partly because Lyonel keeps thinking that he(lyonel) is taller/bigger than he actually is, as he's too used to being the tallest/biggest man in any given room, so he keeps overestimating himself. And partly because he loves how big Dunk is a lottle bit.
NOT BROKE HIS NOSE SITTING ON HIS FACE jfjahdkakdhfhfjakah im crying and not him saying “nah I’ll keep going” like Travis barker breaking his leg during that show or whatever that one time. I hope it’s so minor because I am cringeing in pain (I am a weakling).
I do love the idea of Lyonel having this weird thing where he talks to Dunk like he’s not that big. He’s only a couple inches taller than Lyonel right (Lyonel it’s more than a couple) and besides he’s Lyonel’s precious little boy, his sweet little doll faced lover, so pink and precious and you’ve probably noticed I’ve had Lyonel call Dunk’s pussy “so little” in the past 😵💫😵💫😵💫 this is all completely coexisting with the concrete fact that Lyonel LOVES dunk’s size. LOVES having the largest omega anyone has ever seen. LOVES making him clothes and furniture and all the other things he needs oversized. LOVES!! His big man!! His giant wife 🥰 who happens to be his little princess don’t tell anyone tho
Eddie has been following and watching Steve and can he really be blamed when Steve makes it so easy? Almost too easy...
Eddie was the only one in the locker room but felt like there were a million eyes on him. All watching for his next move. Because surely someone had to be watching him, right? Playing a prank? Because otherwise he lived in a world where Steve Harrington wore panties and left them for just anyone to find.
But there they were, plain as day. Pink with white polka dots. The same pair he'd watched Steve put on last night. Eddie's ears honed in on the sounds just outside the locker room. It wasn't even a question.
He stuffed them into his pocket and bolted from the gym with no regard to how desperate he looked. He didn't stop until he was at the bathroom by the storage closet. He was the only one there and would be for a good while. Once locked in a stall, he pressed his nose into the soft fabric and released a deep, guttural moan.
The smell was something else. Slightly pungent, which made sense. Steve had put them on after his shower last night. And he hadn't gone out on a jog this morning. Already Eddie wanted more. He wanted to sniff what it was like after a hard won game. He wanted to taste it. To bury his nose into Steve's crotch and never return to the surface.
Eddie quickly put them back into his pocket. He was pretty far gone, but he wasn't so depraved that he would jerk off at school. Now if Steve were to be so kind to join him, Eddie would whip out his dick for that.
But alas, the golden boy of the school was completely unaware of Eddie and his addiction.
It started innocently enough. Just a school boy crush that had no hopes of going anywhere. And since it had no leg to stand on, Eddie let himself indulge in fantasies. And then to get more fuel for said fantasies, he started watching Steve more. And then he started following him around more. There was plausible deniability, being a small town and all. There wasn't anything odd about them being at the same restaurant or both being at the gas station at the same time.
It started to be less plausible when Eddie started following Steve home. He didn't even have a good explanation for that. He just saw Steve driving off and he hadn't gotten his fill yet. Eddie reasoned that it wasn't like he was watching him through his windows with binoculars yet.
It didn't take long to to break out his pair and take them up a tree.
Was this really so wrong? Guys went up trees to spy on girls all the time. They did skeevy things all the time just for a chance to see some boob. Was Eddie really that different? This was just normal, teenage hormonal hijinks and he'd grow out of it once he graduated, left town, and got some actual dick.
For now though, Harrington was the star.
Eddie had found out a couple of weeks ago that he liked to wear panties when he was alone. Since then, he'd hoped to catch a glimpse of them in public. Eyes honed on that ass every time he bent or stretched. But it was just his luck that he was only able to see it when Steve was alone at home.
But today had been a glorious surprise. Eddie didn't know how Steve was able to take them off and set them down in the locker room without any of the other guys noticing. But he'd take his blessings where he could get it.
The panties burned a hole in his pocket until the end of the school day. Eddie strongly considered skipping. And it was only the fact he had already failed senior year once that kept him. He also told himself that maybe taking his education seriously would be good karma and would keep getting him lucky finds like this.
Once that final bell rung though, all bets were off. He may have been curt with his friends when saying goodbye, but Eddie didn't care. If he explained the whole thing from start to finish, they might understand. Or they might finally reach their freak threshold and burn him at the stake. Eddie couldn't be too sure.
He pushed those thoughts far from his head as he sped home, dick already aching at the anticipation of new spank bank material in the form of panties that had been pressed against balls, cock, and ass.
"Dude's going like a demon's going after him", Tommy commented as they watched the van peel out of the school parking lot.
"Was he even at gym today?", Andy pointed out. "What a loser."
Steve as usual, didn't really say anything against Munson but didn't defend him either. He just had a grin on his face that could have been mistaken as amusement at Eddie's expense. Which wasn't entirely untrue.
That day after gym class, Steve made sure he was the first one back to the locker room to confirm before anyone else could see. The panties were gone.
Steve and Eddie are dating, and it's great, but they also need to abide by the rules of society, which means they need a buffer. Two men hanging out? Gay, wrong. Three dudes hanging out? Normal and expected.
Ideally, they would use Robin, but she's a terrible actor and spends the whole time looking anxious and paranoid, defeating the purpose of being covert.
Nancy is great, but the situation is too awkward. The kids just raise more questions and want all their attention.
Which is how Jonathan finds himself, somehow, against his will, going on increasingly frequent outings with Steve and Eddie.
He hates it. He hates it so much. Jonathan hardly likes these two. Steve, at least, he has some kind of weird camaraderie with, even if he's annoying as hell. Eddie? Jonathan just doesn't like him. No real reason why, just because.
It doesn't help that they're both so bad at being subtle. They're constantly "sneaking" kisses and saying disgustingly sweet (and just plain disgusting) things way too loudly.
Eddie, realizing that he didn't take his ferret out of his sweatshirt sleeve before leaving to school, turns to Steve like, "You wanna see my hairy noodle?"
Steve is just, "...sure."
Eddie wiggled his arm until his pet crawls out of his shirt and Steve is just like, "Oh. Thank god. I thought you were gonna get your cock out. Let me hold your hamster."
"He's a f-" Eddie loses his ferret and his mind because, "why did you say yes if you thought I was talking about my dick?"
#Eddie learning that he can get away with having Zack the Ferret at school and will now be bringing him until someone tells him to stop#it's a win/win#Eddie gets to be with his pet and Steve Harrington will talk to him#Steve presents Eddie with a little ferret sized shirt like: I made this in home ect for your guy.#Steve: I stitched a skull on it since you're like. freaky or whatever
