For this year's pop up events, there will be a new rule. Instead of following a prompt or holiday, you will have to include at least one of the words given somewhere in the drabble.
February 14th - Love or Lust
May 23rd - Hot or Cold
August 7th - Plan or Coast
October 31st - Trick or Treat
See below for all the guidelines:
All drabbles should be between 300-1000 words. I will be using wordcounter.net to check them all before reblogging!
Please tag this blog @steddieholidaydrabbles when you post. You can also follow the tag 'steddie holiday drabbles' to keep up with posts.
All submissions should include a rating and any CW or tags that you feel are necessary. Please put the prompt you are fulfilling as well. Please consider putting Explicit material under a read more (anything rated E not placed under a read more will not be reblogged). A sample of this may look like:
optional title
rating: G/T/M/E
cw: violence, blood, etc.
tags: established relationship, first time, etc.
Please submit your post by 11:59 PM EST on the day of the prompt. For challenges with multiple days, please submit by 11:59 PM EST on the last date. Keep in mind that the entire event runs on EST. Early/Late posts won’t be reblogged since it is a daily event!
All submissions should include Steve and Eddie in some way. It doesn't have to be romantic, but both characters should be a part of the fic!
ARTISTS
The submission must be made on the day of that prompt in order to be reblogged by this blog. The image must be Steddie focused, though other characters can be included!
Collaborations with writers are encouraged!
Always tag this blog with your submissions so we can see them and reblog them.
If you have questions, message this blog or @steddieas-shegoes.
Please use this link for adding any submissions to the AO3 collection: Steddie Holiday Drabbles 2024
AO3 | rating: t | wc: 995 | cw: none | @steddieholidaydrabbles august 7: coast | tags: au - college students; pre-relationship; first meeting; meet-cute; nonbinary steve; eddie knits; steve has migraines and tinnitus; flirting; a cranky professor as a plot device; fluff | gen masterlist
"If you think you can coast your way through this class, you're wrong." The professor levels the room with a hard glare. He walks slowly in front of the chalkboard, because for some fucking reason, this school still has chalkboards.
Steve fucking hates chalkboards. The sound of writing on them gives them migraines. Triggers their tinnitus. Generally makes them want to hurl. They have no fucking clue how they're going to make it through this class with any semblance of sanity intact. Has fully resigned to drop it or fail.
Half-considers walking out right now the second the professor turns to the chalkboard.
The sound, as expected, screeches through the room. Steve grips the edge of their desk, flinches back in their chair.
It's okay. Just. Just breathe. Just make it through the next half hour and you're done.
"You'll need to buy this textbook. And, yes, I do mean this textbook." The professor waggles the book, a look of pure disdain peeking over his glasses. "Not the 7th edition. Not a secondhand version. Not last year's. You need this," he slams the book on the desk, making several students, including Steve, jump, "textbook. The 9th edition. If you don't have this textbook by our next class period, don't even bother showing up."
Christ.
What kind of fucking power trip is this guy on?
"Read these pages and be prepared to discuss." The professor starts writing on the board again.
As if that wasn't already bad enough, the asshole streaks his chalk at an angle, making the most god awful scratchy-squeaky noise reverberate through the space.
Steve nearly flips their desk.
Thinks they might've if they weren't suddenly looking down at a thick beanie that just plopped on their desk from somewhere behind them.
Steve blinks at it. Starts turning when a note plops onto the beanie.
Okay, then.
"Now, if you really want to do well…" Professor Chalk carries on as Steve unfolds the note.
"Free to borrow. Helps block out the noise. :)"
What?
Steve stares at the note as if it'll change, but it stays the same. They pick up the beanie, slowly turn it, fingers carefully tracing the knit.
It's soft as fuck, honestly. Steve wants a whole blanket like this that they can curl up under at the end of the day.
They're wary of putting on the beanie, though. Could be full of fucking lice for all Steve knows.
Another note softly plops to their desk. Steve stifles a laugh as the people next to them give them and whoever the fuck is behind them strange looks.
"p.s. I promise it's clean. made it myself. Scout's honor, and all that."
Steve does let out the smallest of chuckles at that, quickly bites their lip to stop any more from slipping out. Thankfully, Professor Chalk is far too engrossed in monologuing about how he teaches the course to even notice any kind of reaction whatsoever from the students.
The second Professor Chalk scribbles on the board again, Steve quickly pulls the beanie on, tugs it over their ears.
Immediately, there's a difference.
Like, holy shit, is there a difference.
They can still hear the lecture. But, all of the immediately aggressive screeching sounds are gone.
Makes the rest of the lecture much more manageable. Though, the whole time, Steve's just thinking of the Mystery Crafter behind them.
Finally, blissfully, fifteen minutes later, Professor Chalk releases them.
Before they can talk themself out of it, Steve shoulders their bag and turns to address Mystery Crafter.
And promptly has all the air stolen from them.
Because goddamn, this person is fucking gorgeous. Thick black curls down one side of their head, while the other has a jagged design shaved into it. A soft looking black cardigan draped across their shoulders. Matching beanie to Steve's pulled down over their ears.
That's about as far as Steve gets, because the second this person smiles, Steve is gone. Ascended. Not even on this plane anymore. Completely forgotten about Professor Chalk and whoever else in the room.
All that exists is Steve and Gorgeous Mystery Crafter.
Gorgeous Mystery Crafter who is currently speaking, it seems.
Steve blinks, shakes their head. "Sorry, I didn't — uh, hi."
They smile and tap their ear in response, pulling up their own beanie.
Oh, right.
Steve pulls the beanie off, ruffles a hand through their hair. "Sorry. Yeah. Thanks for, uh," they hold up the beanie. "It helped."
"Glad to hear it, sweetheart."
Oh, fuck. Yeah. Voice. Nice voice. Real nice voice.
Gorgeous gestures at Steve. "Keep it. Help you survive Professor Screech's class."
"Oh. Uh. Yeah, thanks." Steve pulls his hand back, fingers rubbing over the soft yarn. "You, uh, you really made this?"
"Sure did. Got a habit of making pretty things happen with my hands." Gorgeous fucking winks.
Jesus christ.
"Did you just—" Steve laughs and shakes their head. "Alright. That's pretty good."
Gorgeous bows slightly and grins. "I aim to please."
"Hm." Steve bites their lip. "How 'bout coffee first?"
Gorgeous has the absolute audacity to look shocked. "Wait, really?"
"I mean, is that—" Steve shuffles, adjusts their bag. "We don't have to, but I figured, maybe, that's where this was…?"
"Oh, it's an absolute yes, sweetheart." Gorgeous nods emphatically. "Just wasn't expecting a gorgeous person like you to go for me."
"Funny, 'cause I've been calling you Gorgeous in my head the whole time." Steve smiles and winks. "I'm Steve."
"Eddie."
"Not that this isn't absolutely riveting to watch, but I do have things to do." Professor Screech-Chalk snips, gestures at the door.
"Pardon us, Professor." Gorgeous Eddie says with a pompous air to their voice, and, oh, this one's dangerous, Steve can already tell. "We're making our way to Ye Olde Coffee Shop, aren't we?"
"Oh, my—" Steve laughs, drags a similarly laughing Gorgeous Eddie out the door, thinking to themself the whole time that maybe the class won't be so bad after all.
Prompt: Plan or Coast | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | CW: None | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, And Is Doing So Far, Far From The Court of Public Opinion
Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.
The water is lapping at the shore, and Eddie digs his toes into the wet sand. He looks down, and can hardly believe his legs are his own. He didn't even know he could tan like this.
It's warm, and it's peaceful here on the beach. With the sounds of the ocean, and yeah, there's a few birds to grate on his nerves, but it's mostly nice. He's got all the fresh tropical fruit he could ever want to eat. He's got a hammock, his guitar, and his freedom.
So, why does he still feel caged? He hangs his head, resting his forehead on his knees.
Steve's late.
Two days late.
And with no way to contact him, or anyone from the outside world, all Eddie can do is worry.
On day four, he catastrophizes:
Steve's lost at sea.
Steve's been hurt.
Steve's been killed because the Upside Down has flared up again.
Steve's fine, but isn't coming, because he doesn't care anymore.
Eddie takes a deep breath. He knows none of those things are likely, and even if they were, he can manage on his own for a while. He's got fruit, and he's honestly gotten pretty good at fishing. Plus, it's not like he's used all of his stockpile from Steve's last drop.
The sun goes down, and he stands, brushing the sand off his shorts. Trudging back up into the bungalow.
On day six, he climbs a tree and just as he's about to climb down, he finally spots the familiar sailboat on the horizon, and breathes a sigh of relief.
Steve's coming.
It'll still be a couple hours, but he's almost here.
"Sorry it took so long," Steve says, stepping down off the deck.
Eddie's standing ankle-deep in the water, ready to help guide the boat in and get it anchored.
Once they do, Eddie knows he's vibrating with excitement.
He's here.
"Get lost?" Eddie asks, shoving his hands in his pockets, trying to not smother Steve before his feet are even in the sand.
"Not hardly," Steve says in a snit, and Eddie feels so much affection for this bitchy man.
Eddie smiles.
Steve will unload his supplies, stay a week or so, and then disappear for six months. Eddie's already dreading his departure, and the feeling that will overwhelm him as the sailboat gets further from the coast, smaller and smaller on the horizon, until he can't see it at all.
"Will you take me out on the boat?" Eddie asks.
Steve smiles, and if he resents having to step foot back onto the boat again so soon after dropping anchor, he sure doesn't say so. Just nods, and hops back up on the deck, reaching his hand down to help Eddie up.
"Permission to come aboard?" Eddie asks, his hand already in Steve's.
"Permission granted," Steve says, tugging him upwards.
Eddie loves to watch him sail, even if he'd deny it to his dying breath. Finding out Steve Harrington is a boat man was a shock. Though, it shouldn't have been. Prying out of him that he was a contender in many regattas on the Great Lakes amused Eddie to no end. He didn't even know what a regatta was until meeting Steve.
After watching him running rigging, then attaching the tiller, Steve finally hoists the sails.
They unload the boxes from below deck, Steve going up and down, and handing them to Eddie on the beach. Eddie runs them up to the bungalow, and then they do it all over again.
Only, this time it doesn't stop. Eddie's not sure how much shit Steve's brought him this time.
It's a lot.
He's not sure he has room for all this.
Then, his stomach swoops low with the realization that if Steve's stocking him up this good, that he's not coming back anytime soon.
And the dread sets in.
Steve's shirtless and shoeless, looking very at home on the beach. Soaking up the addictive warmth.
He's dripping after swimming in the crystal clear water, where he'd floated easily on his back before resurfacing, his chest hair damp and clinging to his skin, even darker than ever.
Now, Steve shakes out his hair, and it's the best pornography Eddie's seen, well, ever.
There's a stash of skin mags Steve's brought him in his nightstand. The bottom of the pile, women.
More recently? Men.
Eddie never said a word, but Steve got to know him better, obviously, even in these short visits, and adapted.
Steve Harrington is observant. That much Eddie knows.
Steve stretches his hands over his head, and it's obscene.
Eddie's only got so much self-control. So, he sits on his hands, pressing his lips firmly together.
He's only a man.
A week becomes two, and they sail around the island. Steve standing at the helm, in his tiny swim trunks and boat shoes. He looks like a Kennedy on Hyannis Port and Eddie definitely shouldn't find it as attractive as he does.
Steve's never looked richer than he does on a boat.
Dropping anchor, they jump in to swim.
It would be winter in Hawkins right now, so this must be a nice change of pace. A little break. A vacation.
Eddie's bun comes loose, and he shakes out his wet hair. It's long, even for him.
Treading water, he tries to put it back up again. Steve crowds close, and Eddie uses him for stability.
He's the only stability Eddie's had for years, honestly.
Bun fixed, he realizes how close he is to Steve's face, and swallows.
Steve moves in, the kiss telegraphed from a mile away.
Eddie doesn't meet him in the middle. Instead, he squeezes Steve's shoulders.
"I can't," Eddie chokes out, "When you leave, it'll kill me."
Steve smiles.
"What do you think all that extra shit was? I don't plan to go anywhere anytime soon."
The words register, and a second later he's being kissed. Hands clutching, holding him tight, like Steve plans to never let go.
If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!
Notes: True Love will always be a boy on his sailboat. First there was Pacey Witter. Now, Steve Harrington. The bar is set high, folks. ⛵
They put Steve in boat shoes in the epilogue. What else was I supposed to do about that? LOL.
This is for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop event prompt "coast" | cw: 932 | rating: G
summary: Steve and his mate reunite. Eddie gives an unexpected gift.
AO3
As soon as Steve’s ship docked in Oahu, he took off to the beach. The sun barely peaks over the horizon as he paces.
It’s been a few months since he was here last, but the locals wave and greet him like he never left.
He has a pattern.
San Francisco to Hawaii and back. He traveled the ocean in a small vessel, studying marine life.
At least, that’s what he tells people when they ask.
“You get something to eat?” Robin his first mate asks as she catches up to him.
“You know I can’t eat until I spot him,” Steve replies.
Usually, Steve keeps up with the migrating great white; until they hit the “cafe” in April and July. It was deemed too dangerous for him to tag along when there were so many sharks in the area.
But it wasn’t just dangerous for a human, it was dangerous for the animals too.
“Steve, you know he’s gonna be pissed when he gets here and you aren’t taking care of yourself,” Robin sighs, handing over a sandwich.
“Thanks.”
He takes a hearty bite of a spam musubi, with an appreciative groan. Being on the open ocean means a lot of fish, so he’s happy to eat something else for a bit.
It’s midday when his prayers are finally answered.
“Cap, look!” Robin points down the coast. It’s barely noticeable, but as he watches he sees a familiar dorsal fin.
“Eddie,” he breathes, sprinting toward him. He gets as close as he can but stops before he enters the water, letting Eddie close the distance.
A pale arm breaches the water, waving enthusiastically.
When he reaches the shallows, Eddie pops his head out of the water, grinning widely— sharp teeth on full display.
“Stevie!” The creature calls.
He’s just as beautiful as he was when Steve first saw him.
“Careful! I’ll come to you,” he replies, wading into the water. “I don’t want you to get beached again.”
“That was one time!” Eddie grumbles even as he stays put.
When Steve gets within reach, Eddie darts forward and wraps his large scaly arms around the human’s waist.
“Yeah and it almost killed you,” Steve pouts as he wraps his legs around Eddie’s hips. He still has to look up at his creature but he feels so protected and safe that he doesn’t mind.
“But if I didn’t we never would have met,” Eddie grins, pressing a kiss to Steve’s hair.
“Well, maybe I don’t want you to ask for help from other humans and convince someone else to be your mate.”
Eddie gasps theatrically, a hand to his chest with offense.
“I would never,” he vows. “You’re the only mate for me. Here, let me prove it.”
“Eds, you don’t have to,” Steve reassures, guilty now that he made his mate feel the need.
“Here.” Eddie holds something out.
A large pearl-like object lands in his cupped hands and Steve gasps.
In all his research of Eddie’s species, Steve only knew of one reason these pearls were given.
“Are you sure?” Steve whispers.
“I’m sure sweetheart,” his creature replies just as softly. “I can show you how to care for it and when it’s ready, it’ll swim with me. But since it will have bits of you, it’ll be able to live on land too.”
Tears spring to his eyes as he clutches the pearl to his chest. Through his blurry eyes, he sees Eddie’s face fall.
He can’t have that. The familiar scrape of scales against his lips calms him as he presses kisses all over Eddie’s cool face.
“This is the best gift I’ve ever been given,” Steve mumbles.
“Really?” Eddie’s gills and side fins flutter in pleasure.
“How long until it’s ready?”
“When we begin migration again,” Eddie sighs against his lips, holding the pearl from the other side.
--------------
Three months later, Steve nervously pulls the pearl from it’s heated blanket nest.
Carefully, he carries it down to the coast and into the shallow water.
“Ready?” Eddie asks, holding out his hands.
With a shaky breath, Steve hands over the pearl, now nearly quadruple in size.
He’s been caring for it daily; wiped it with a sea water soaked towel, held it to his bare chest while he slept, showered it with kisses for hours. He already loves it so much and he knows it’ll be safe in the water with its father, but he wants nothing more than to keep it on his ship.
Eddie lowers the pearl into the warm ocean and releases it.
With wide eyes, Steve watches it glow for a few moments before it bursts in a shower of light.
A pup blinks back at them, with big brown eyes and chestnut curls. It swims to the surface, laying itself against Steve.
“She knows her mama,” Eddie chuckles. At the sound of his voice, the pup jumps from Steve’s arms to Eddie’s.
“How can you tell it’s a she?”
Eddie points to the dorsal fin on her back. Unlike Eddie’s it doesn’t come to a sharp point, but rounded curve.
“What will you name her?” Eddie asks.
Steve looks at the pup, swimming in laps around them now with a soft smile.
“How about Maya?” He asks.
“I like that. Baby Maya.”
Eddie chases the baby through the water, clicking after her. His species have a language consisting of clicks and trills, unpronounceable by human tongues, if Steve had to guess, he suspects Eddie is giving her his own name.
Steve watches his family play with a soft grin. He’ll follow them anywhere.
“I know I’ve been gone for a couple months, but I’m pretty sure it’s not possible I left you pregnant and now there’s a baby,” Eddie jokes when he walks into the house. “Unless there’s something I missed in sex ed.”
Steve rolls his eyes but leans in to kiss Eddie on the lips. Eddie is careful as he kisses back, not wanting to disrupt the sleeping baby in Steve’s arms.
“I’m doing Hop a favor. Newborn got dropped off at the station a couple weeks ago and the last placement didn’t work out,” Steve explains. “They think they have a family willing to take her soon.”
“Oh,” Eddie feels breathless suddenly. He’s taking in Steve holding a baby and suddenly he gets it. “You didn’t mention it on the phone.”
“Yeah, at first she was supposed to be gone before you got back.” Steve looks down at her, face going soft. Eddie melts. “But I figured it would be easier to update you in person.”
“What’s her name?” Eddie looks down and gently brushes the back of his finger against her cheek. Her nose scrunches and he quickly pulls away, not wanting to wake her up.
“Technically, she doesn’t have one. But I’ve been calling her Melanie. Mel for short.”
Steve’s attached. Eddie watches as he runs his hand over the top of her head. She doesn’t have much hair, but the light brown wisps are nearly identical to Steve’s own hair. She could probably be his if someone looked quick.
They didn’t plan on having kids for themselves. Steve decided when all was said and done with the Upside Down that he wasn’t sure he could ever bring kids into this world, and he knew Eddie wanted to travel with the band a lot. Adoption was out for them as long as places looked down on two guys living together and raising a kid. The plan was to be the cool uncles as all of the nuggets grew up and had some of their own, and that was fine with both of them.
But now, Eddie thinks they’ve both forgotten how good Steve is at this. How natural it comes to him to be a caretaker and protector, how much he loves being responsible for someone, how much he needs to be needed. Sure, there’s plenty of people who need him, especially Eddie, but this is different. This is a role that can only be filled like this.
“This family they found…” Eddie swallows. “They’re good people? They have what she needs?”
Steve looks up at him, tilting his head slightly to the side. “They seem nice. They have a son. He’s always wanted a sibling.”
“Oh.”
Steve leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “She’ll be loved and happy there. Hop and I wouldn’t let her go if not.”
“Yeah,” Eddie nods. “That’s good.”
Steve smiles at him and Eddie knows he can read every thought on his face.
“We can talk about it if you changed your mind,” he says quietly. “I’d like to talk about it again.”
“Okay. Yeah. We should,” Eddie feels like he’s going insane. “I know that’s not what our plan was-“
“When have we ever stuck to a plan before?”
Eddie laughs. Yeah. They haven’t done a lot of sticking to plans. Not since before they met, not when they were saving the world, and not since then, either.
“You look good like this, Harrington.”
Steve’s smile brightens. He looks down at the baby and then back up at Eddie.
“You will too, Munson.”
“You think so?” Eddie feels nerves settle in his stomach. He’s not sure he’s got the good parent gene in him. He’d never be like his own parents, but he isn’t sure if he could be good.
“Yeah. I think we’d be pretty good together. When we do it.”
“If we do it.”
Steve smirks. “When we do it.”
—
It takes almost two years of trying to figure out different options and finally getting approved to adopt.
They wait another six months before a little girl comes to them.
Her name is Melody. They call her Mel.
She’s a very bubbly five year old, full of fire and a spirit that probably would be too much for any other set of parents in the world.
She loves to sit on Steve’s shoulders, even though she’s getting too big for it. She loves to sit on Eddie’s lap while he plays guitar, even though he struggles to play around her squirmy body.
They love her more than anything.
A small part of Eddie is pretty sure she was always part of the plan, even though they didn’t always know it.
Written for the August pop-up round of the @steddieholidaydrabbles
Prompt: Plan
Rated: E
Tags: Medieval AU; Conquerer Eddie; Slave Steve; Explicit sexual content; past Harringrove; Billy Hargrove being an asshole; Blood and violence; Steve Harrington whump; Non-con (mentioned); Dubious consent (actual)
Notes: Continued from here
The plan was to keep his distance.
Which may sound ridiculous, given his station in life, but Steve has become rather good at shutting off his emotions. He can writhe and roll his hips, can moan and whine and beg at the right spots, can spout the most obscene nonsense - all while his mind is somewhere far away. Floating weightlessly in a clear mountain lake, the cool water lapping at his naked skin. Strolling around the palace gardens in the sunset, smelling the flowers. Stepping over the bloody corpses of his enemies as he reclaims his throne.
“What's it like?”
Then again, he isn't used to random questions.
“Huh?” he asks, and tries to sit up. Kas, straddling the back of his legs, tuts and pushes him back down into the cot. He's much stronger than his lithe build suggests - all wiry muscles and fight-calloused hands. “I mean … Forgive me, I didn't catch that?”
Kas hums, and continues to apply the ointment the healer prescribed for Steve's wounds. They’re healing, but they still hurt. Steve’s fingers curl into the pillow as Kas focuses his attention on the nastiest one.
“The kingdom of Hawkins, sweetheart. Tell me more about the place I'm about to conquer.”
Steve rolls his eyes.
“It’s a beautiful nation,” he recites what his tutors have drilled into him since childhood. “Rich in history and natural treasures. Gold and other precious metals in the mountains to the north, and the freshest, cleanest water in the-”
“-river delta in the south,” Kas singsongs. “I know. It may be surprising to you, but I can read. What about its people? What do they like to eat? How do they pass their time after a long day out in the fields? What tales and songs do they pass around their hearths?”
“I-” Steve stammers. Shit, what kind of question is that? How is he supposed to know what the common people eat, or do with their time? “They are, um- … good people. Law-abiding and hard-working, and-”
“-and god-fearing and all of that shit.” Kas sighs. “What beautiful lines they’ve taught you.”
There’s a plop, like a bottle uncorking, and a moment later, those calloused hands are on Steve’s ass instead of his back, warm and slick with oil.
Steve moans and arches his back as well as he can in his current position, lying on his stomach with Kas’s weight pressing him down into the mattress.
“Beautiful sounds, too,” Kas rumbles. Steve can feel his cock filling out, pressing hard and insistent into the space between his thighs. “Tell me about the man who taught them to you, then. You must’ve spent a lot of time with him. Surely you’ll know more about him than about the common folk.”
Steve just barely manages to disguise the incoming groan under a needy whine.
“Let’s not talk about him now,” he begs, letting his voice drop to the low, sultry purr that always does its job. Kas swears and rocks his hips, and slips in two fingers at once to scissor him open. “Why think about him when you’ve got me here, ready to fulfil your every desire?”
Kas chuckles and curls his fingers. This time, the gasp that slips from Steve’s lips is not an act.
“My every desire? Someone is full of himself. I desire lots of things, big boy, and a great many of them lie outside this tent. Which is exactly why I want to know all you can tell me about the king of Hawkins. What kind of man is he? What does he love the most in life? What are his weaknesses? What was he hoping to accomplish by sending you to me?”
Steve thinks of the spies, disguised as travelling merchants and sellswords and cheap whores who have joined the approaching army over the last few days. Thinks of how he's supposed to sneak out - once Kas is well worn out from fucking him and fast asleep - to meet them. Thinks of all the beautiful false information he has spun in his own head, to make sure both sides suffer maximum damage.
He has just opened his mouth, words neatly arranged on his tongue, when the world tilts. When he manages to shake the vertigo and the confusion from his head, Kas is grinning up at him, dark curls fanning around his head on the pillows.
“Can't upset those wounds, can we? Not after I spent all that time patching you up.”
Steve thinks of the sounds of Hargrove's belt breaking his skin. Thinks of the sick glee in the man's voice as he told him to count the lashes out loud. Thinks of the perverse pleasure in his eyes as he took him on the floor after, each thrust tearing at the fresh wounds.
So you won't forget who you belong to, pretty boy.
“He's not a man,” he whispers, shifting his weight so that he can straddle Kas’s lap and sink down on his cock. “There's nothing human about him. He enjoys pain. He thrives on making people suffer. And I want him gone.”
Kas chuckles, but Steve doesn't miss the little hitch in his breath, or the way those hands tighten on his hips as he starts to rock himself.
“Better be careful what you wish for, honey. There's plenty of people who'd tell you that I, too, am a monster.”
It's true, Steve thinks. Someone sure is full of himself. After all, Hargrove being gone does not automatically mean that Kas will be in power.
Well, all the better.
Let them both revel in their delusions of grandeur. Let them use him and beat him and fuck him to their hearts’ content. He can take it. At this point, he knows his way around monsters better than he knows how to deal with humans.
And as far as monsters go, he'll take his chances with this one.
It's time for another Steddie holiday drabble pop up event!
You can write about a plan gone awry, coasting through life, sticking to a plan, riding a roller coaster, or any other way you want to perceive the prompts! Remember that for the pop up events this year, at least one of the prompt words must be included in the drabble somewhere. Other tenses of the words will be accepted (ex: planned, coaster, plot).
All drabbles should be between 300-1000 words. I will be using wordcounter.net to check them all before reblogging!
Please tag this blog @steddieholidaydrabbles when you post. You can also follow the tag 'steddie holiday drabbles' to keep up with posts.
All submissions should include a rating and any CW or tags that you feel are necessary. Please put the prompt you are fulfilling as well. Please consider putting Explicit material under a read more (anything rated E not placed under a read more will not be reblogged). A sample of this may look like: optional titlerating: G/T/M/E | cw: violence, blood, etc. | tags: established relationship, first time, etc.
Please submit your post by 11:59 PM EST on August 7th.
Check the pinned post on the blog for any other guidelines as well as a masterlist of all previous pop up events!
We’re currently about to open our third and last round of Beta Claims, and we’re opening this round for people who haven’t previously signed up for the bang but still want to participate.
We still have some amazing projects left unclaimed by betas and would love to have everyone paired up by the end of our third round.
A friendly reminder that there’s no previous requirement to join as a Beta, even if you haven’t done that kind of work before.
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just under the wire with this one for @steddieholidaydrabbles !
Prompt: hot/cold | wc: 718 | Rating: M | Tags: Vampire Steve Harrington, blood drinking
read on ao3
~
Eddie feels like he’s on fire.
Which is ironic, considering the rest of his body feels like he’s been dunked in ice water.
He keeps wiggling his fingers and toes just to remind himself that they’re there. He assures himself this is normal. This is how you’re supposed to feel when losing a pint of your blood. As if anything about this situation was normal.
It was his own fucking fault, really. His suggestion. But the guy had been starving. What was Eddie supposed to have done, turned the other cheek? He was just being nice. Doing what any good roommate would do.
He never expected being nice would lead him to this, sprawled across the Harringtons’ uncomfortable leather art deco ass sofa, with Steve Harrington’s mouth on his neck.
The sounds coming out of Steve’s mouth are positively lewd, moaning and sucking at Eddie’s neck like his blood is fucking ambrosia of the gods, and yep, there’s one part of Eddie’s body that’s neither cold nor numb. He prays that Steve’s super vampire hearing doesn’t pick up on the sudden uptick in his heartbeat, nor the blood rushing to his dick.
Eddie closes his eyes and tries to think entirely neutral, not Steve Harrington related thoughts. Lace doilies. The color beige. Meatloaf.
Steve sighs again in contentment, the sound practically pornographic, sending vibrations through Eddie’s neck and down the rest of his body. Fuck.
He quickly abandons any pretense at civility and lets his mind wander to everywhere else on his body he’d like Steve’s mouth, fangs and all. With his superhuman strength, Steve could pin Eddie to this couch and have his way with him. There were certainly worse ways to die than being fucked and sucked to death by a vampiric Steve Harrington.
Eddie’s stomach suddenly lurches violently, and he opens his eyes to black spots dotting his vision. He feels like he’s about to puke or come or pass out. Possibly all three.
“Steve,” he chokes out.
Steve pulls away, and Eddie hisses at the sudden coldness on his throat, his breath catching when he sees Steve’s face. His pupils are blown, all black. His teeth are stained red, like something out of a horror movie.
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit,” he says, taking in Eddie’s current state. Eddie hopes he doesn’t notice the tenting in his pants, nor the wet spot at his crotch. “Shit, shit, shit,” Steve continues. He rushes out of the room and returns moments later with a glass of juice in hand. “Here,” he says, as he helps Eddie to a seated position. Eddie gratefully takes the glass and chugs it down until the room stops spinning around him.
“Better?” Steve asks.
Eddie nods. “Mmm, better.”
“Good.”
As they face each other, Steve suddenly reaches forward and brushes a finger over the holes in the side of Eddie’s neck. It comes away bloody. Steve stares at it a moment before running his tongue over it, lapping up every last speck of blood. Eddie never thought he’d be jealous of a fucking finger, but here they were.
Steve catches Eddie watching him and quickly removes his finger from his mouth, wiping it clean on his shirt. “Sorry,” he says, almost bashful, and Eddie swears he’s blushing. Huh, that was new. That was because of him, he realizes. His blood now flowing through Steve’s veins. Fuck, definitely don’t think about being inside Steve right now, he chides himself.
Eddie clears his throat. “Waste not, want not, right?”
“Right.” Steve looks down at his hands, then back up at Eddie. “Hey, thank you. For – for this.”
“Yeah, of – of course,” Eddie stammers out, barely above a whisper. “Any time.”
Steve’s eyes widen. “Really? You mean that? Even after …” He gestures at Eddie.
Eddie forces a smile. “Sure thing, Big Boy. I’ve had worse Friday nights.”
Steve smiles at him, a genuine smile, fangs front and center, the tips still stained with Eddie’s blood. Eddie could look at that smile forever, and the fact it’s directed at him makes it even sweeter. His body still feels like it’s been put through the spin cycle. He’s still half hard. He doesn’t mind. He’d let Steve do whatever he wanted with that smile. Bleed him dry, who cares.
Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles & @corrodedcoffinfest.
if you must
Prompt: Cold | CCF Bingo Card: 1970s || Prompt: AC/DC || Song: Hells Bells | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Mention of Weed & Beer | POV: Steve | Pairing: Pre-Steddie | Tags: Pre S3, Scoops Ahoy, Steve Finds Himself in A Predicament, An Unlikely Hero Emerges
Steve puts down the last crate of ice cream, and he hears the scuffing sound. He turns, and the box he was using to hold open the freezer door is sliding across the concrete.
He darts forward, fingers grazing the cold steel just as it latches shut.
Well, fuck.
Steve rattles the handle, but he knows it's not opening up. At least not from the inside. Corporate knew and still hadn't fixed it before opening. Just told them to be careful.
Well, obviously, Steve wasn't careful enough.
This is just fucking great. He's gonna freeze to death in here overnight. Robin takes one evening off, and Steve gets himself locked in the walk-in freezer. Just fantastic. If he survives, he's never gonna live this down.
She already thinks he's a fucking dumbass. This isn't gonna be a strong argument in his ongoing case trying to prove he's not.
Now he's gonna be dumb and cold.
It definitely doesn't help that he's in these stupid little shorts.
He jumps up and down, trying to keep the blood flowing. Then remembers that maybe he's supposed to stay still? Fuck. He doesn't know. He wasn't paying attention. He never is. He switches to rubbing his hands up and down his legs.
Breaking down the door seems impossible, but is his only way out.
He bangs on the opposite wall, hoping somebody might hear him, then takes a running start at the door, ramming his shoulder into it.
Bad idea. Fuck. Really bad idea.
Now his shoulder is throbbing, and he knows that's not gonna do shit other than hurt himself.
He's stuck.
He's fucked.
He sits on a milk crate and slams his foot into the wall. Over and over. Just trying to get someone's attention. He's pretty sure it's a hopeless endeavor.
But he'll keep trying.
Steve's shivering. It's been three hours.
He's still banging on the wall, hoping maybe a custodian will be next door. He's stretched his shirt down over his bare legs, but it's not helping a lot. He keeps banging his fist against the wall, until it gets too cold and he needs a break.
Steve's not sure bothering is even worth it. Until, someone bangs on the wall. Or maybe he's hallucinating it.
Either way, Steve jumps up, nearly getting tangled in his shirt, and bangs back.
They keep knocking with the same pattern over and over. So, Steve mimics it: Three fast, short knocks, then three long ones, followed by three more short knocks.
Someone is fucking with him.
It stops.
Maybe nobody was there at all.
Steve curls back up in a ball, trying to cover as much as his exposed skin as possible, and rests his head on his bent knees.
He's just about to doze off, when he hears knocking on the freezer door.
"Anybody in there?" he hears through the other side.
That lights a fire under his ass.
Steve rushes over to it and knocks back, "Hey! Open the door, I'm stuck in here!"
The door swings open, and there's Eddie Munson. Huh.
"Hell's bells, Harrington," Eddie says, as Steve rushes out of the freezer, shivering. He can barely feel his fingers and toes. "I could hear you banging around from next door."
Steve is so cold his teeth are chattering.
"Fuck, your lips are blue. Here," Eddie says, shrugging off his leather jacket, and Steve starts to protest, but it's warm around his shoulders, and he's not about to turn that down. He slides his arms through the sleeves, and continues his closing routine.
Eddie is watching him do it. It's a little intense, but Eddie Munson has always been a little intense. Nothing new there.
Steve is ready to be out of this fucking place. He finishes what he has to do to close up shop while Eddie stands idly by, then together they make a beeline for the door. As Steve pulls down the gate, only then, does what Eddie had said finally register in his brain.
"Next door?" Steve asks, confused. "You were next door?"
"Shut up," Eddie snaps.
"Munson, are you working at The Gap?"
"I said shut up, Harrington, or I'm shoving you back in the freezer."
Steve laughs, and waves his hands in surrender.
Eddie walks alongside him out of the mall, then smiles, "They needed a night stocker. The money's not bad. Tell anyone and die."
Steve pretends to lock his lips.
"Look at me, I'm working in a sailor suit. I'm pretty sure I don't have room to judge."
"That's true," Eddie teases, bumping into Steve's shoulder.
"Were you done for the night? Or do you need some help finishing?"
"I'm done," Eddie answers.
Steve goes to slide Eddie's jacket off his shoulders, when Eddie's hand stills his, touching his forearm.
"Hey, you wanna go to a party tonight?" Eddie asks, and with those big eyes, it seems earnest. Steve's gonna take it as such, anyway.
"Can I change clothes first?" Steve asks, looking down at himself.
"If you must."
"I must. I need a warm shower, even my bones are cold."
"Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital? Hypothermia kills, you know," Eddie says, and Steve is pretty sure he's not dying of hypothermia. At least not yet.
"I'm okay. Your jacket helped. Thanks."
"Wear it home. Just bring it back to me when you come out tonight."
Eddie smirks, and Steve grins back at him. Steve's not sure if it's meant to be a move, but it sure feels like one. It'd be one if Steve was doing this for a girl.
"Yeah, okay. I will. Thanks again. You saved my ass."
Eddie breaks off, heading towards his van.
"No biggie. We'll be out at the quarry," Eddie says, inviting him again, and Steve nods. Sure. It might be fun. Eddie surely has weed, and Steve can bring some beer.
"Meet you there."
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and @steddieholidaydrabbles to follow along with the fun! 🦇
Notes: Eddie, a year later in the Upside Down, what do you mean you don't know Morse code? Steve, having just mimicked what Eddie was doing, is none the wiser. 🤣
Also, how else would Eddie know Mike's wardrobe came from The Gap, huh? 😏🤣
one more written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles May pop-up challenge
prompt: hot/cold | wc: 1.000 | rated: M | tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson, famous Corroded Coffin, best friends Steve & Robin, Steve has a revelation, secret meddling, background Robin/Chrissy, open ending (but maybe dreams do come true sometimes) | also on ao3
It's disturbing and lewd and too much. Definitely not meant for the average user's eye, and yet-
Steve is hooked, can't bring himself to scroll on.
The guy on his screen is bare chested, showing off his toned upper body – tattoos, chest hair, pierced nipples and all. Swaying lasciviously to the rhythmic guitar sound in shiny black leather pants that sit obscenely tight around his thighs and ass, drawing Steve's attention to the very obvious bulge in his middle, grinding against the mic stand like he’s trying to get off on it.
Steve has no idea what the song even is about; he can't focus on the music, not when the man's pushing his lips so close to the microphone, it's hard not to imagine it being something else.
"Since when do you listen to metal?"
He nearly drops his phone in shock; he hadn't even noticed Robin entering the room, who suddenly pops her head over his shoulder to get a good look at the sinful display of-
"That's Eddie Munson! I didn't know you- Oh, I see!"
Robin swats his arms and cackles, "You slut."
"What?!" Steve winces, all high-pitched and embarrassed, feeling caught.
"I mean. He's hot, I guess? Just didn't know that's your type."
With half an eye back on the screen, Steve lets her words sink in as he watches the man strut across the stage, dropping to his knees in front of his band mate, ringed fingers gliding seductively along the guy's leg, throwing his long hair around, arching his back, pretending to hump the guitarist's boot.
It's inappropriate and vulgar and-
So fucking hot.
"I didn't even know I have a type."
He didn't mean to say it out loud, to confess that she's right, but at least Robin doesn't laugh at him, just smiles and looks almost proud when she says, "Well. We better find you a Rock star, then."
Two weeks go by and Steve almost forgets about the whole thing.
Almost.
Because unfortunately for him, Corroded Coffin – Eddie Munson's band – are suddenly everywhere. His feed is full of live videos and interviews and gossip blog articles, and every time the lead singer pops up, Steve feels like a giddy fangirl, uh, -boy, flushed in the cheeks and hot under the collar, ready to sell his soul for 'just one chance' with a guy that doesn't even know he exists.
It's stupid, obviously, but it's kind of intriguing to imagine what it would be like if they'd ever come eye to eye.
He'd probably faint and die if it ever happened in real life. He'd absolutely embarrass himself, maybe stutter a few incoherent words before blacking out, but-
But a man can dream, right?
And dream he does.
About Eddie finding him in a crowd of thousands. Their eyes meet and it's like everything around them dissolves into background noise and blurred colours. Eddie puts on a show, just for him, teasing him with seductive movements, dipping low, crawling to the edge of the stage where Steve stands and holds his gaze, watching him lick his lips like he can't wait to get a taste of him.
And then Steve would be called backstage, because of course he's that lucky. And Eddie is already waiting for him, still sweaty and a little breathless from performing. It shouldn't turn Steve on as much as it does but it does. Sends a cold shiver down his spine when Eddie takes him by the hand and pulls him closer, hot breath tickling his ear when he whispers, "I gave you a show; think it’s your turn to give me one now.”
Dream-Steve would not lose his mind, would be all smooth and flirtatious. Would look up at him innocently while dragging a finger across his naked skin, sternum to waistband, testing, teasing, offering. And Eddie couldn’t help himself, would push him against the nearest wall, kiss him dirty and wet, and maybe suck on his tongue while he’s grinding against him like he did with the mic stand.
Would pin his arms above his head and bite into his neck, mark him up and make him squirm in his hold when he pushes his thigh between Steve's legs, offering friction that isn't enough, playing with him until he's a whiny mess, begging to be-
"Steve? You there?"
Shitfuckingdamnit!
Robin really needs to work on her timing.
"Kitchen!" Steve calls back and shakes himself out of the daydream, willing his heart to slow its overexcited beat.
"Close your eyes," she says when she enters, "Got a surprise for you."
When he opens them again, he finds two tickets lying on the table in front of him.
"What-?"
"Corroded Coffin. Show's been sold out for months but lucky for you, Chrissy works for their label and called in a favour. Gonna get you your Rock star."
Steve laughs awkwardly, says, "Yeah, right. Thanks, babe, but I don’t think that's how this works. He'd have to notice me first and that's definitely not gonna happen."
Not in reality, only in his dreams.
"But you don't even know the best part yet," Robin says and smirks. "Chrissy also got us on the guest list for the after party."
The show was even hotter live than any video Steve had seen. And now they're actually standing in a club, VIPs and guests only, only a few feet away from the band.
"Come on, I'll introduce you," Chrissy says and winks at Robin before dragging Steve across the room under very little, very weak protest.
There he is, Eddie Munson in the flesh. Looking up at them when Chrissy confidently taps him on the shoulder.
"Eddie. This is Steve."
It feels almost as if this isn't the first time she's mentioned his name to him because Eddie doesn't seem confused. Checks him out head to toe with hungry eyes. Bites his bottom lip before he turns to Chrissy and says, "You were right. He's just my type."
Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles & @corrodedcoffinfest.
gonna take that as a yes
Holiday Drabbles Prompt: Hot | CCF Bingo Card: 1970s | Prompt: Black Sabbath | Song: Hot Line | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sexual Acts, Mild Come Play, Light Praise Kink | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Established (Loosely-Defined) Relationship, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Premature Ejaculation, Freak 4 Freak, Bitchy Steve, But Eddie Loves It
Eddie isn't sure if he's hearing the river flowing, or if it's just the blood rushing between his ears. But there's this steady hum, and he feels alive with it.
Steve had an idea, and when Steve has an idea, Eddie's all in. Always. Never been disappointed once.
And tonight's no different.
Eddie's leaning against the side of Steve's car, and Steve pins him in place with one hand splayed against his stomach. Eddie's tense, a livewire, and Steve's about to suck the few brain cells Eddie's ever had right out through his dick.
Steve Harrington sucks dick.
Steve Harrington sucks dick like he thinks he might win Olympic gold doing it.
And Eddie has no complaints, thank you very much.
This is an arrangement Eddie feels like he's coming out ahead on. He gets to fuck Steve Harrington.
Dreams come true, honestly.
He also gets to tamp down all the feelings he has for Steve, and that's less fun, but manageable. He can be cool. So cool.
"That's it, sweetheart," Eddie whispers, and Steve moans around his cock. Steve likes being called sweetheart, and Steve likes praise. Eddie's happy to give him both. He'd give him anything he wanted, honestly. All he needs to do is say the word.
Steve's mouth is hot and slick against his cock, using so much pressure Eddie's sure he's gonna come before they even get started.
"You could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch," Eddie blurts out, and Steve laughs, pulling off his cock.
"Well, that's an image," Steve says, bitchily. But the fact that his hand is still stroking Eddie's dick says a lot more than his words. Eddie knows Steve by now. And he's not mad. He's not even annoyed.
He's about to be, though.
Because Eddie is close. Too close. He can't help it if he has a hair-trigger around Steve. He's Steve Harrington. That's understandable. Unfortunately, Steve's mouth isn't on him right now, but he's gonna come anyway.
Eddie covers Steve's hand with his own and aims his cock towards Steve, coming in thick ropes all in Steve's chest hair.
"Ugh," Steve whines. "Gross."
"What are you complaining about? You're the one that pulled off."
"Yeah, because you made me!"
Eddie chuckles, tangling his hand in Steve's hair, tugging.
"It was hot though," Eddie states.
Steve scoffs.
"Oh, it wasn't?" Eddie asks, knowing damn good and well it was.
Steve pulls away, leaning back onto his haunches. He swipes his fingers through the mess Eddie made, then jams his hand down the front of his tight, tight jeans.
Eddie has no clue how he managed that. Honestly. But Eddie makes a sound of displeasure.
"What?" Steve asks, knowing exactly what as he works his cock with his hand, now wet with Eddie's come.
"You could at least let me see," Eddie wheedles, trying to change Steve's mind.
"Yeah, well, you could have come down my throat like a good boyfriend. Instead, you chose this. Live with it."
Eddie's brain misfires. The hamster tripped and fell on the wheel, and now he's tumbling along, out of control.
Well, that's what it feels like anyway.
He reaches forward and pulls Steve's hair again, but Steve uses his free hand to bat Eddie away from his head.
"Stop, I'm mad at you."
Eddie whines, and Steve looks at him like he's insane. Maybe he is.
Feral.
Low impulse control.
He shoves Steve backwards, and with his hand jammed down his jeans the way it is, Steve can't do a damn thing about it.
Eddie gets down, crawling towards him, pressing his mouth to the bulge in Steve's jeans. Mostly hand, he suspects. Steve's got big hands to match his big dick. Still, Eddie licks at him through the rough denim.
"You're a fucking freak," Steve says.
Eddie grips Steve's hips, pressing him into the grass. Yeah, he is.
A moan slides from his throat, and Steve keeps moving his hand in his jeans as much as he can, which honestly, isn't a lot. But Eddie keeps mouthing at him, desperate for it. For him.
Steve called him his boyfriend, and Eddie was under the impression Steve wanted casual. No strings attached. Eddie wants strings, Pinocchio. All the strings he can get. He wants to be so tangled in those puppet strings of Steve's that he'll never be free again.
"What the fuck has gotten into you?" Steve asks, but his free hand cradles the back of Eddie's head, fingers gentle in his hair.
Eddie pulls back. "You."
Steve laughs, beckoning Eddie closer. Eddie follows orders. He can follow orders so good.
He scoots up Steve's body, pressing his mouth to Steve's. Steve's hand still trapped between them.
Eddie wiggles, shifting his weight until he can get his hand on Steve's fly, working the button, then the zipper. He wants to get his hand on Steve. Needs to.
"Seriously? What's the matter with you?"
"Tonight, or in general?" Eddie asks, fingers finally wrapping around the warm, silky skin of Steve's dick, forcibly shoving Steve's hand aside.
Steve laughs, fingers carding through Eddie's tangled hair as best they can.
Eddie uses his free hand, swipes his fingers through the remaining mess on Steve's chest, and pushes them into Steve's mouth. Giving him what he wanted. Steve sucks, and Eddie finds his eyes, fist still pumping Steve's dick, "You really my boyfriend?"
Steve comes all over his underwear, jeans, and Eddie's fist.
Eddie's gonna take that as a yes.
"Also hot," Eddie declares, dragging his fingers from Steve's mouth, scraping bottom teeth.
"C'mere," Steve whispers, softer now. Eddie obliges.
Steve's hand cups the side of Eddie's neck, pulling him into a gentle kiss.
When they separate, Eddie presses his cheek against Steve's, and Steve's crushing him in a hug, arms locked around his back.
"Aren't we boyfriends?" Steve asks, voice far too small.
Eddie's pretty sure he's been dumb about what they are to each other for a while.
"Of course we are, sweetheart."
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and @steddieholidaydrabbles to follow along with the fun! 🦇
take me to the river, baby, drink my wine,
when i'm going down won't you throw me a line?
- Hot Line, Black Sabbath
He pulls his legs under the blanket and squirms to find a comfortable position, mentally repeating his little mantra.
Relax. Focus on your breathing. Go to sleep.
For the love of all that's holy, go to fucking sleep.
The thought startles a snort from him. There's nothing remotely holy about what he's doing here. Waiting for unconsciousness to claim him so that a literal sleep demon can come and ravish him in his dreams.
It's silly, really, this jittery restlessness that's making him toss and turn, that has him checking the alarm clock with mounting frustration. He was the one who suggested this, after all. Who came up with the idea of doing this on a fucking schedule.
A fucking schedule.
Oh God, why can't his stupid brain shut up?
He groans and rolls over.
The clock reads 01:32.
Steve probably thinks he chickened out and decided to pull an all-nighter. Which is actually getting more and more likely if his stupid mile-a-minute mind doesn't chill out soon.
His eyes flick to his desk. He can just make out the shape of the metal lunch box sitting on top.
Steve said to do this sober.
Steve also said to have a good meal and plenty of water before and keep the bedroom well aired, and Eddie, with the same alarming eagerness to obey that he knows from the dreams, followed all of his instructions.
And what did it get him? Cold feet.
The alarm clock jumps to 01:33.
“Screw this,” Eddie mutters. He flings aside the blanket, swings his legs over the edge of the bed-
-and falls into a bottomless, black void.
It's so sudden he doesn't even have time to scream or brace for impact. He also doesn't have to.
His stomach lurches as the fall stops, and then he's dangling in the blackness, spread-eagle, like a puppet suspended from invisible strings. He gasps and fails, trying to make out shapes in the dark, but his eyes might as well have been glued shut.
It's hot. That's the first thing he notices once the adrenaline fades. Hot and humid. It makes his lungs feel like they've been filled with syrup, makes it seem like he's floating weightlessly in warm molasses, makes a thin film of sweat bead on his naked skin.
He wasn't naked when he went to bed.
“Clothes would kinda defy the purpose, wouldn't they?”
Eddie flinches, head whipping around in an instinctive attempt at finding the source of the voice, but it sounds like it's coming from everywhere at once.
“Not that I don't like the thought of undressing you. I'll need to do that some time. Put you in some skin-tight leather, then peel it off you inch by inch, while you beg me to go faster.” A hand grabs his ankle, sliding up his calf, parting his legs. “Not today, though. Took you long enough to get here.”
“W-wait,” Eddie stammers. He needs to pause for a startled moan when the hand reaches his inner thigh and brushes his balls. He's hard already. “When did I fa- aaah, shit. When did I fall asleep?”
“That's the thing, right?” says Steve. One warm, long finger circles Eddie’s rim, then pushes inside, and Eddie sways in his phantom bonds. “Sleep is weird like that. You can wait for it for hours, but you can never pinpoint the exact moment it takes you. Were you planning on smoking that weed? I thought I was clear on that?”
That must’ve been part of the dream then. Unless whatever weird magic that allows Steve to know his innermost thoughts now extends into the realm of consciousness, too.
Steve pushes in a second finger, all the way to the knuckles.
“Well, excuse me,” Eddie rasps through the syrup-thick warmth and the coil of lust clogging his throat. He tries to rock back onto those fingers, but he can't find leverage. “I was getting a little desperate there.”
“You like that though. Feeling desperate.”
The fingers coil. Eddie feels sweat drip down his chin and disappear into the darkness.
“I was fucking nervous. Shockingly, the idea of a dream sex date made me a little a-aaah … awkward. And going by the way you've turned off all the lights, I'm not the only one.”
The fingers stop fucking him open, and Eddie allows himself a smug grin. Not like Steve can see it.
Unfortunately, he forgot about the mind-reading powers.
“You're getting entirely too cheeky.” The fingers slip out. Eddie is left dreadfully empty and disoriented in the dark, clenching uselessly around nothing while Steve's voice floats in and out of reach. “I told you: we're doing this on my terms or not at all. You still want to do this, don't you, Eddie?”
“Yes,” Eddie gasps. There's a raw, pulsating beat of pure need thrumming deep inside him - in his blood, in his fingers, in the tip of his aching cock. “Please, I'll- … I can be good, promise.”
“You better be,” says Steve, and suddenly his hands are on Eddie’s knees, spreading him wide open as he buries himself inside. The darkness fills with starbursts of red and white, and the sticky sweet molasses in Eddie’s abdomen start to boil. “Or I might decide I'm not letting you come today.”
Eddie doesn’t think that's likely. Steve has told him, after all. That his energy is the most delicious, the most nourishing, when he's at the peak of his pleasure. And isn't this the whole point of this?
He's not gonna run any unnecessary risks, though. Instead, he bites down on his own tongue, forcing himself to go still and pliant as Steve starts to fuck him, one relentless thrust at a time.
He may be developing an unlikely taste for despair, but he doesn’t think he’d go quite as far yet.
written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles may pop-up challenge
prompt: hot/cold | wc: 966 | rated: T | tags: implied/referenced homophobia, minor injuries, secret relationship but the secret got out, angst, (emotional) hurt/comfort, love against all odds, hopeful ending | also on ao3
Steve sees red.
So much of it where it doesn't belong.
On Eddie's lip and dripping from his nose, staining the tissue he holds against his face with a shaking hand.
Red like the rage building in the pit of his stomach, spreading into Steve's clenched fists, burning hot in his veins, desperate to seek revenge on the ones that did this to him.
"What are you looking at, Harrington?" Eddie sneers and spits to get rid of the coppery taste in his mouth. "I don't need your sympathy. Or anything else."
Steve understands why he's being defensive but he can't just stand there, has to try at least to help. He takes a step forward, intending to close the distance and help Eddie up from his bent over position. But he doesn't get far when Eddie stops him mid-motion, holds up a hand and shakes his head.
"Stay back," Eddie grits out and it sounds both angry and broken. "Please, just- leave me alone. I don't want your help. You've done enough damage already."
He's not wrong, this is Steve's fault. For being careless, for letting his guard down when he should've kept his mask up. But it hurts either way, cuts into him like a knife twisting in his heart.
"I didn't mean to-" Steve tries but stops himself when he sees the pleading look in Eddie's eyes.
"I know. I know you didn't. But you did and now they know. So, please, Steve. Let's just forget about it and pretend it never happened."
With that, Eddie pulls himself up and climbs into his van, the door on the driver's side already ripped open from when he got jumped without warning, without a chance to defend himself.
He doesn't look back, doesn't even check the rearview mirror when he turns and speeds out of the parking lot.
Eddie sees red.
Feels his blood run ice cold the moment he lays eyes on Steve's face.
He's covered in bruises, has a big cut above his left eye, a visible crack in his bottom lip.
It doesn't take much for Eddie to know what happened to him. Makes his insides twist with anger and nausea and guilt. He should've known this would happen, that Steve wouldn't let it go like he asked him to.
He should've know it would all come back to him, because how stupid was he to think this would simply vanish, if they'd just ignore it.
How naive was he to think he could ever try to forget.
"What the fuck, Steve! I told you not to-"
Eddie doesn't know what's worse. The fact that Steve doesn't even flinch when he pulls him into the storage room without a warning, or how much he doesn't care if anyone finds them here, together, when that is the exact reason for why they're even in this mess.
"I didn't need you to defend me."
Steve looks up at him and Eddie wants to cry. Wants to push him against the shelf and threaten him to stay away. Wants to take his hand and run. Get out of here. This school, this town, this life. Wants to be anywhere else, where he doesn't have to act like he doesn't feel what he feels.
"Didn't do it for you," Steve offers weakly, no bite in his words, only defeat.
"So what did you do it for, then? To boost your ego? 'S that it?"
It's mean and unfair and untrue, he knows that, but Eddie can't help it. He's too fucking angry. And scared. Not for himself but for what it will mean for Steve, know that he's given them all the more reason to mess with him. As if the one hadn’t been enough.
"I did it for us," Steve tells him and Eddie feels like the floor beneath him cracks open, trying to swallow him whole.
It's impossible to keep his distance any longer, not with everything in Eddie screaming for closeness, for the sanctuary of Steve's arms to save him from the inevitable downfall. Hands moving on their own when they gently cup Steve's face, holding him so he can't not hold his gaze, needs to see the truth in his eyes to confirm that he’s not gone insane.
"They're never gonna stop," Eddie says and shudders at the determined expression on Steve's bruise-scattered face.
"Let them try. They're never gonna win. I won’t let them."
If kisses had colour, theirs would be red.
Hot and ravaging like rampant wildfire, burning them alive from within with unfiltered desire that's pouring into every push and pull of their lips.
Red like the blood Eddie is willing to spill over and over again if in return, it means he can have Steve like this – pressed up against him, trembling with the overwhelming want for reassurance through touch.
Red like the crescent shapes Steve's nails leave on his skin where they dig into Eddie's back to draw him even closer, like he's trying to merge their bodies and become one with him.
Red like their warpainted love, ready to fight for their right to love each other, purest devotion dressed in sin to the eyes of every soulless fool that doesn't want to see the beauty in their connection.
Red like the sunset that witnessed their first three-word confession, carelessly lost in a dream-like moment. Not thinking about consequences, only focused on this all-consuming emotion that felt right and more real than anything they'd ever felt before.
A virtue of their own creation they refuse to give up on, despite everything and everyone trying to tell them it’s wrong.
There’s nothing wrong with being so truly and wholly in love.
And that, above all and against all odds, will be enough to get them through.
for @steddieholidaydrabbles popup event ‘hot or cold’
rated e, 18+, minors dni | 913 words | no cw | tags: soul bond, friends with benefits to implied lovers, kind of open ending, anal sex, blowjobs
🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
There’s fire in his veins, burning, raging through his body. It’s like this every time.
Steve doesn’t know what it’s like, doesn’t know that every time he touches Eddie, it’s like a firework goes off. He thinks the sweat is because the windows are open and the summer heat is leaking into his bedroom. He thinks his blushing skin is because of the words he whispers into Eddie’s ear as his hands ghost over every inch of his skin, teasing. He doesn’t know that it’s because there’s something wrong with Eddie.
Or right, depending on how you look at it.
Steve’s touch has always been hot, has always led to Eddie needing a cold shower or a walk in the evening breeze. The accidental grazes in high school felt more like lightning. The hugs and comforting arm around the shoulder felt like a pot of water boiling slowly under his skin. The kiss that changed everything was like an explosion.
It sounds bad. It sounds painful. But it’s not now, not anymore.
Because Eddie’s body was made for Steve’s touch.
When Steve’s lips find his cock, he feels tears pool in his eyes. It’s almost too much, but it’s not the heat that does it now. It’s the way Steve knows how to lick the tip, how to squeeze the base with his hand, how to breathe against the head before taking him down as far as he can. It’s how he knows to take it slow and deep, how he knows Eddie prefers that over a quick pace every time. It’s how he lets spit drip down to his hole, rubbing it in and teasing just enough before he finally pushes a finger inside.
Sometimes this is as far as they get before Eddie comes down his throat, clenching around his thick finger as if he’d just been fucked for hours. He doesn’t mind it and neither does Steve, who insists watching him fall apart is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
But more often than not now that Eddie’s used to the sensations spreading through his body when Steve’s near, he can hold out for Steve to get inside him. And that’s a bit like his own personal nirvana.
“You want more, baby?” Steve asks when he’s slowly trying to fit a third finger inside him. It’ll fit, Eddie’s just so worked up, so hot. “Let me in. I wanna fill you up.”
One thing Eddie never expected from Steve: his dirty fucking mouth.
“Please. Please, Steve, please,” Eddie begs. He’s not ashamed to turn into a mess with Steve. Steve never makes him feel like he’s a burden for wanting and needing more. “Need you.”
The flames lick at his skin from the inside, reminding him that he’s being touched by the person who knows his soul, who belongs to him.
“There you go,” Steve praises as he stretches him open more. “Just like that. Gotta get you loose for me, right? Make sure you can take me.”
Eddie can’t answer in words, only the smallest whimpers, desperate and high-pitched.
He’s instantly cold when Steve pulls away.
“No, no, no,” he says, sitting up to see why Steve stopped, why he’s so empty, why he can’t have the fire inside him.
“Sh, it’s okay,” Steve puts a hand on his chest. “I’m gonna fuck you now, give you what you need.”
And he does.
It’s slow. He knows Eddie gets overwhelmed when the heat’s been coiling, building everywhere, ready to snap. He takes his time sliding all the way in and back out, holding his hips steady so he hits the spot inside him that makes him see red and orange and yellow.
Eddie closes his eyes as Steve takes him apart, moaning every time Steve talks or moves his hands up to pinch his nipple or lifts his leg a bit more for a new angle. He’s loud now, can’t help it.
“You ready for me to fill you up, baby? Keep you warm for the night?”
Steve’s voice breaks a little as he speaks, a sure sign he’s only seconds away from coming. Eddie feels himself nodding, hears himself begging to be filled.
He comes the second Steve’s cum warms him from the inside. It’s a different kind of sensation to the warmth from the touching and kissing, something he has tried to describe but can’t.
They lay like this for a while. It helps Eddie to come down easier if Steve stays inside him, running his fingers down his chest and sides, kissing his head and neck. He feels like it’s less of a loss when Steve pulls out and cleans them up this way.
“Can’t believe it’s like that every time,” Steve huffs when he lays back down, pulling Eddie into his side. “Never felt so connected to someone before.”
Eddie stays quiet but nods in agreement, hoping he feels it against his shoulder.
He doesn’t know how to tell Steve about the soul bond they have. He’s not even sure if he wants to risk ruining what they have right now. Sure, it’s highly unlikely Steve would leave with the soul bond, but Eddie can’t risk it.
He can’t live a lifetime in the cold if his fire runs away.
He snuggles closer and sighs.
This is good for now. Steve’s arms around him tighten for a moment before they relax and he lets out a small snore. Eddie smiles to himself. This is perfect.
It's time for another Steddie holiday drabble pop up event!
You can write about hot, cold, something in between, or both at once! Remember that for the pop up events this year, at least one of the prompt words must be included in the drabble somewhere. Other tenses of the words will be accepted (ex: heat, frozen, warmth).
All drabbles should be between 300-1000 words. I will be using wordcounter.net to check them all before reblogging!
Please tag this blog @steddieholidaydrabbles when you post. You can also follow the tag 'steddie holiday drabbles' to keep up with posts.
All submissions should include a rating and any CW or tags that you feel are necessary. Please put the prompt you are fulfilling as well. Please consider putting Explicit material under a read more (anything rated E not placed under a read more will not be reblogged). A sample of this may look like: optional titlerating: G/T/M/E | cw: violence, blood, etc. | tags: established relationship, first time, etc.
Please submit your post by 11:59 PM EST on May 23rd.
Check the pinned post on the blog for any other guidelines as well as a masterlist of all previous pop up events!
