Dirty, Dirty Boys

Dirty, Dirty Boys

PART ONE: SOMETHIN' UNHOLY Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson [6.4k] Steve and Eddie shared a lot of things, you’d noticed. Just smut. More smut.

You nodded, mumbled some nonsense and buried your face into Steve’s chest, let Eddie pet at you. This? That? That was normal, not the first time Steve had pulled you onto his lap to get a little love, Eddie’s hand soothing over whatever part of he could reach, joining in on the touching.

It was the first time you’d done it naked though, bar the rumpled dress that was nothing more than a strip of fabric around your waist. And when you eventually caught your breath, you shuffled back, kneeling between the two boys, gaze flickering between both of them. 

Steve was smiling, almost shy, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from the way he’d loved on you, licked you clean until you cried. One hand cupped the back of your neck, thumb soothing down the pretty line of your throat and you wondered if he could feel the way your pulse was thrumming. 

He could. 

“Do you trust us?” He asked you, bringing you back into him, being awfully greedy with you but he really couldn’t help it. Not when he could still taste you on his tongue. And beside, Eddie didn’t seem to mind, patient, lazy, knowing he was always included. 

You nodded, breathed out a “yes,” and let yourself fall back into Eddie’s touch when his palms smoothed over your bare shoulders, playing with the ends of your hair. 

“You’ll tell us if you wanna stop?” Eddie whispered, nudging at your cheek with the line of his nose, encouraging you to tilt your head for him so he could push kisses to your jaw. 

Your lashes fluttered, you blinked, everything a little sparkly, the world soft like cotton as your two boys touched you all sweet and lovely. 

“Mhmm,” you agreed.

“Even if you wanna just slow down,” Steve added, “you’ll keep talkin’ to us, yeah baby? We don’t have to-”

You almost whined, a soft sound of protest leaving your lips as you wrapped your hand around his wrist, held his palm to your neck and shook your head. 

“I want to,” you told him, ‘cause Eddie has whispered how Steve was gonna be first to slide himself inside of you and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

It had been a long time coming, hadn’t it? 

And there was something about the way Eddie watched the two of you, eyes hooded and hazy, tracking the way you both touched each other like he was learning how to play a new instrument, fingers twitching when Steve’s curled into you, thumb tapping out the same beat on your hipbone when Steve licked and licked and licked and-

“That’s my girl,” Steve murmured, a kiss pressed to your lips with the praise and your cheeks burned. 

You thought about the boy behind you, wondered if Eddie had anything to say about Steve’s words but he was smiling, knowing, all too aware of how this dynamic worked. 

Eddie could touch and tease and kiss and slide himself snug inside you, he could talk all pretty, whisper all filthy and tell Steve how you liked the way he put his hands on you. 

It could happen this once, it could happen two, three times more. It could go on for weeks, maybe months, god maybe more. But Eddie knew and you knew, that you were Steve’s girl first. 

Shit, even Steve knew. 

It was something cosmic, something a little magic, inevitable like the way June turned to July and the sun came up in the morning. It was some soulmate kind of shit, a slow dance across kitchen tiles and basement party carpets, sidewalks at two in the morning, neither of you knowing when it would end. 

Just that it would. And Eddie wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d fit in somewhere along the way. That maybe tonight wouldn’t be all he got, like this could just be the beginning. 

But no one was ready to talk about that. Not yet, not now, not like this. 

Not when your two boys were crowding either side of you, still far too dressed with their cocks pressed hard against the confines of their denim jeans, eyes glazed over as they looked at you. 

So you licked your lips and tried not to sound too shy when you said:

“Clothes off.”

Neither argued. In fact, both were silent as they pulled off their shirts, giving your greedy eyes the lovely view of their bare chests, Eddie pale and inked where Steve was suntanned and freckled. Eddie only managed to get his jeans and his boxers down past his hips before you were on him. 

You coaxed the boy back onto the sofa, Eddie huffing out a laugh, one hand flying to tug at his curls as you took his cock out of his underwear, the elastic snapping back against his skin. Eddie swore, sighed, tried his best to keep his lashes from fluttering closed because fucking hell, he really wanted to watch what was about to happen.

“Christ, princess,” Eddie huffed, “that’s it.”

You made a noise of agreement, palm curling around the hard length of him, ducking down to lick a stripe over his tip. His hips shot off of the couch, a strangled sound falling from his lips and Steve smirked, big hand covering your own on Eddie’s thigh, both of you pushing him back down.

“Easy, Eds,” Steve chided, “you gonna let our girl make you come?” 

Eddie nodded, eyes hooded as he watched you through his lashes, whining until you took pity on him and took as much of him as you could in his mouth. 

“Ah, shit, shit,” he groaned, one hand falling into your hair, careful to be gentle with you so that Steve didn’t get too riled up and scold him. “Fuckin’ hell, you look so pretty.”

You whined around his cock, flushing at the praise all whilst Steve dragged your rumpled dress down your hips and legs, throwing it into the corner of his living room. 

“Yeah?” Steve asked, kissing his way down your spine, following the arch of your back as he got you naked. He was still kneeling behind you, admiring all your bare skin, the freckle on your hip, the way Eddie had his head thrown back and was panting. “Does she look good with her mouth full?”

He was popping the button to his own jeans, tugging at himself, trying to relieve some of the pressure that he’d felt since the party, since he first kissed you. Steve’s hips stuttered against his own, a groan caught in his throat because he was staring down at the curve of your ass pressed against him, popped out as you balanced your hands on Eddie’s thighs, your mouth making filthy, pretty noises as you sucked at him. 

“Jesus, yeah, yeah, she does,” Eddie breathed out, his hand moving to cup at your face so he could feel the way your cheek bulged with him. He ran a soft thumb over your bottom lip, almost too tender for the dirty things you were doing to him. “Can feel her throat, s’fuckin good, ohmygod-”

You whined as you took him deeper, thrusting your hips back into Steve, desperate for him to touch you, to do something, to do anything. Both boys watched you, grinned at your impatience and Eddie hissed through his teeth as the head of his cock nudged at your throat, your tongue laving the underside of it as you bobbed over him.  

“You want Steve, sweetheart?” He cooed, watching his friend pet at your hips, tapping at your thighs until you spread your legs for him. You were held up by your forearms on Eddie’s knees, hands wrapped around his cock, Steve’s palms curled around your hips. “Gettin’ antsy, huh? Don’t think you’re ready for him yet, Harrington’s fucking packin’, did you know that?”

He watched your lashes flutter, felt you suck at him a little harder and Eddie gasped out a laugh, gathered your hair from your face in his fist so he could watch your eyes turn glassy. 

“Oh, she’s excited, Stevie,” Eddie smiled and the other boy twitched in his own hand, cock throbbing, cheeks flushed.

“Shut up, Munson,” Steve mumbled and you couldn’t help it, the contrast of his shy voice and the way he had a tight grip on your hip made you look back. 

You let out a huff of breath, an almost gasp that sounded a little strangled because Steve was fucking slowly into his own fist, hips twitching every time he stroked his palm over the head of his cock. 

It was big. Thick too, and you were already struggling to take all of Eddie but the sight of Steve made you rub your thighs together. 

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” you tried to laugh but god, it still sounded like a whine. “You’re gonna break me.”

Eddie snickered, wrapped his own hand around yours and stroked over his cock, both of you watching the way Steve’s cheeks went pink at your attention, your words. His eyes were hooded, darker than normal and his lips were parted, still glossy with you. 

“Told you,” Eddie grinned. “S’gonna feel so good though, isn’t it princess?”

You stroked over him a little faster, wrist twisting as Eddie’s own hand fell away to let you take control again. You nodded, pushing your face to his thigh so you could close your eyes for a second and just breathe. You were overwhelmed in the best way, four hands petting at you, naked body fizzing with attention and heat, the slick between your thighs only getting worse. 

Eddie’s hand soothed over your hair, coaxing you to look up at him, your cheek to the denim that still covered the top of his leg as you kept up your movements on his cock. His thumb pulled gently at your bottom lip, letting it fall back into place with a soft ‘pop’ and he groaned, breath ragged.  

“You can’t wait, can you?” He murmured, looking from you to Steve, “can’t wait to feel Stevie stretch you out, huh? S’that what you want? How long have you wanted it, princess, tell us.”

You clenched under his attention, at his soft cooing, his fingers tracing the lines of your face and instead of answering, you took his cock back in your mouth, just enough so you could suck at the tip and let your tongue play slide over him. 

And while Eddie gasped and moaned out obscenities at the feel of your mouth again, Steve pulled at your hips with both hands, tugged you back against him so the length of his hard cock slid along your ass, tucking himself neatly against you, holding you there and waiting. 

You could feel him throb, already wet with you and his palm smoothed along the arch of your back, swept back your hair so he could see your mouth around Eddie. 

He tutted, tsked, “c’mon, babe, you gotta answer him, I wanna hear.”

He crowded over you, placed a sweet kiss on your shoulder, another under your jaw. Steve nosed at your cheek and it still made your heart stutter to have him so close. His lips found your ear and you could feel his smile, the curl of his lips. 

“I wanna know,” he whispered, eyes on Eddie as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. The boys exchange a smile you didn’t see, Steve’s hands sliding over your sides, Eddie’s in your hair. “Hmm? Tell me how long you’ve wanted me for, baby, m’goddamn desperate to know.”

You moaned around Eddie’s cock, a soft gurgle coming from your throat that made Eddie’s hips jump. You pulled back, placed a sweet kiss on his tip that made the boy whine, and turned your head so you were cheek to cheek with Steve. 

His cock was nudging at you, slick against your folds, hot and heavy as you both slowly rocked together, trying to ease the desperation between you both. 

“A while,” you whispered before correcting yourself, “a long time, too long, fuck- Steve, please.”

You pushed back, harder than before, overcome with need and the tip of Steve’s cocked slipped inside of you, making you both cry out. The boy’s hands flew to your hips, grabbed you and kept you still, his chest heaving at the way your cunt fluttered around his head. 

“Fucking hell,” Steve groaned, head thrown back, eyes closed, jaw clenched. He whispered your name, over and over and over like a prayer, kept you from moving back any further as he twitched inside of you. “You gotta stop baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself like this.”

His instructions made you whine and you tested him, wriggled against his hold on you and managed another half an inch of him. You were gasping, barely taking half of Steve and already so full. 

Eddie’s hand found your chin, tugged at your gently to make you look at him whilst Steve reared back, some of his cock still snug inside you. Eddie smiled at you, pouting at your glassy eyes and turned up brows. 

“Oh princess,” he cooed, taking his own cock from your hand, stroking himself over with the wet you’d left their front your mouth. “You gotta calm down, you’re getting yourself too worked up.”

He kissed your mouth, a soft, sweet peck as his thumb pushed at your cheek, making your lips push out into a squished pout. 

“Poor Steve’s about to blow a fucking gasket, huh?” Eddie grinned wickedly, ignoring the way the other boy cursed him out. “You clenching down on him, yeah? That pretty little cunt getting tighter and tighter around Stevie’s dick?”

Steve let out a low moan when you did exactly what Eddie had described, your body seizing up on him like you couldn’t help it, like you were desperate to pull more of him in. 

Another kiss from Eddie, on your cheek, your forehead, still grinning as Steve panted and tried to cool down behind you, hands grazing over your ass. 

“He’s right though,” he mused, working his fist over his cock, stroking slowly, lazily, enjoying watching the way you squirmed around his best friend's dick. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself, sweetheart, you gotta take Steve nice and slow, huh? Let him help you.” 

And with that, Eddie winked at Steve and coaxed you forward, helping you slide off of the other boy and the motion made you both whine at the loss. You suddenly felt awfully empty and you were about to complain but Eddie manhandled you back onto the sofa next to him, lifting you like it was nothing. 

“Lie down, pretty girl,” he ordered softly, patting his lap, “c’mere for me.”

You did as you were told, eager to rest your head on Eddie’s thighs, watching the way he kept palming his cock, wondering if he’d feed it back into your mouth to let you suck on. 

But then Steve shucking off his jeans and moving between your legs, kneeling on the couch cushions in front of you and nothing else fucking mattered. His hands were warm on your thighs and you felt him tremble, once, twice, grab onto you a little tighter and you wondered if you’d wake up the next morning with Steve shaped bruises on your skin. 

He ducked down into you, one of his hands curling around Eddie’s thigh as he nudged your nose with his, brown eyes burning into your own. His pupils were blown wide, lips cheeks still flushed and and for just a second, selfishly, it was just the two of you. 

“You still okay?” He whispered, watching you for any signs of hesitation and when you nodded eagerly, eyes unblinking and needy, he smiled, kissed you soft, licked into you filthy and said, “atta’ girl, baby.”

Steve pulled back, nodded at Eddie in a way that seemed like a thank you for allowing Steve to have these small moments with you. But Eddie understood. Steve needed them and so did you, he saw it in the way you looked at each other, the way you gazed at the other before things moved forward. 

“Ready, pretty girl?” Steve murmured, giving his heavy cock another pump or two, lining himself up with your cunt and teasing at your folds. 

You gasped, tried to arch up to him but Eddie was quick to soothe you, carding a hand through your hair and running a finger over your mouth. Your tongue caught him, hummed around his digit as he slid it into your mouth and both boys groaned at the sight. 

Steve slid forward, inch by inch, stopping to pant and squeeze at your hips when he was half way inside you. You were glassy eyed, breathless, the stretch of him a pretty burn and you were already full, so full. 

“Oh good girl,” Steve moaned, “that’s it baby, you’ve got it, you okay, huh?”

You made some sort of noise, a high keen and Steve swore as you tightened around him, trying his damn best to not let his hips jerk forward. It took another second or two, a slow slide of his cock that made you gasp and when he was finally seated inside of you, Steve dropped his chin to his chest and tried to control his breathing. 

“Jesus fuck,” he gasped out, like he was fighting for control. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart, so good, so good for me, huh? So goddamn good.”

Eddie laughed lowly, making a sweet noise of excitement as he leaned over your body and sighed at the sight of you both. “Oh, look at that.”

He spread your folds with a finger and thumb, groaned filthy at the view he got of Steve’s thick cock snug inside of you and he gave your clit a little tap. Your response was borderline ridiculous, hips snapping up off of the sofa, taking Steve deeper still and both you and the boys moaned at it all. 

“Fuckin’ prettiest thing ever, huh?” Eddie choked out, smoothing a calloused hand over the soft of your tummy, holding you down as Steve lifted your thighs, hitched them to his hips and gazed down at you. “Look at you two, just goddamn perfect, am I right?”

You nodded, blissed out, already drunk on the way your boys had made you feel. 

“C’mon, big boy, I wanna hear all her pretty noises.”

Steve tapped your hip to gain your attention, your gaze snapping to him and he lifted his chin, eyes glazed over as he asked a silent question. 

‘Can I move?’

You lifted your hips in response, watched his eyes roll back and then he was rocking into you. A slow, maddening in and out of his cock, your cunt making filthy noises, loud enough for Eddie to swear and groan out like a man possessed. 

You watched him fist his cock, hand moving quicker than before as he trained his eyes on where you and Steve were joined, his jaw slack, lips parted as he let his free hand cup your tits, fingers pinching your nipples a little mean. 

Then Steve was panting, skin slick, boxers shoved down his hips just enough to let his cock move in and out of you. He made the prettiest sounds, eyes flicking from where your cunt was wrapped around him to the hand that Eddie used to stoke himself. His hair was a mess, eyes drooping with pleasure that made him feel boneless and when you whined at Eddie in order for the boy to give you his cock to suck on, Steve almost fell apart. 

He hitched your legs higher, claves against his chest and ankles at his shoulders as he pressed kisses to the inside of your knee, pressed up against you in every sense of the word. It felt like he was turning you inside out and you could help but take Eddie a little deeper too, gagging a little as you let him slip down your throat. 

Both boys were messy about it, gasping and swearing, calling you the sweetest names, moaning out something dirty and every touch of them had you warm, begging for more. Your cheek was pressed to Eddie’s thigh as you sucked on his tip, panting hard about him as Steve picked up the pace and made your toes curl. 

It was all consuming, having both of your boys like this. Steve alone would’ve been enough to make you cry, a white hot crackle of emotion mixed in with the best kind of pleasure; rough hands, sweet lips, soft words, but Eddie’s fingers around your throat made everything worse, made everything better and when he looked down at you, he stuttered, lifted his hips almost too much and sighed. 

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered, wiping away a tear that rolled down your cheek, catching it before it disappeared into your hair. “You good, yeah? Doin’ so well for us, that pretty mouth feels so good.”

And as if he wasn’t happy with all of your attention on Eddie, Steve dropped a hand to your clit, thumb brushing over it lazily as he slowed down, made you cry for him instead and Eddie’s dick slipped messily from your mouth as you chanted Steve’s name. 

He set a punishing pace, slow and hot, a steady rhythm that had you seeing the entire solar system, his thumb barely pressing down on you in sloppy circles, dangling what you wanted just out of reach. 

You whimpered, legs flexing against Steve’s chest and he grinned, sucked a kiss to your calf and let your legs fall back to his hips. He leaned over you, lifted his chin at Eddie so the other boy could cross the rest of the distance over your naked frame and give his friend some love too. 

You watched them kiss above you, an awfully sweet exchange considering where their dicks were but it made you clench around Steve and it was sinful the way you saw him smile against Eddie’s mouth at the feel of you.  

Unholy, you thought again, the two of them, the way they made you feel. 

Unholy. 

It was downright filthy, watching their tongues slip in and out of each other’s mouths, your head pressed back into Eddie’s thigh and he petted at your hair, as if to tell you they hadn't forgotten about you. Steve’s fingers on your cunt was nothing more than a tease now, a soft touch that kept you on edge. 

You whined, made soft noises of protest as your hand tried to bat Steve’s out of the way, tried to rub hard and fast circles over yourself the way you liked it but your impatience was enough to garner the attention back to you. 

Both boys were back on you, a little meaner than before, hands rougher as Eddie caught both of yours in one of his, pinning them over his lap and laughing at your pout. 

Steve leaned down to you instead, grinning at Eddie before he kissed you sweet too, nipped at your bottom lip and nosed at your cheek. 

“S’wrong?” He asked, voice impossibly soft. He was honey and caramel, sticky sweet, a hint of something dangerous and all flirt. “Huh, baby? Feeling left out?”

You nodded and whined, tried to arch your back and lift your hips, pulled at your wrists but Eddie had you captured. He tutted, grinned dirty at you and wanted to burst. 

“Yes, yeah, shit, please,” you cried, pouting at both your boys. “Steve, Eddie, I-”

“What?” Steve interrupted, “what d’you want?”

“A kiss,” you whispered, “another kiss.”

Eddie made a little sound of amusement from above you both, stroked a thumb softly over the inside of your wrist. “Ain’t she sweet?” He cooed, and if it had been in any other situation, you would’ve rolled your eyes and slapped at his arm for his cheek but you could only moan at him. 

“Yeah?” Steve pouted, trying hard not to smile, “Is that all? Pretty baby, d’you want a kiss from Eds?”

You were frantic in agreeing, sighing sweet, straining against the hold both boys had on you and Steve was fucking throbbing inside of you, moving minutely, a slow, soft rock of his hips every now and then. 

Eddie let you go only to slide out from underneath you, your head falling softly to the couch cushions as Steve settled back onto his heels and spread your legs wider, pushing himself into the cradle of your thighs. 

“Go on, give our girl a kiss.”

It’s like they planned it, like they knew you inside out. 

Eddie grinned, smiled a little wild and roguish and it was so pretty, the way he looked at you. He settled onto his knees like Steve, bent by your head as he crowded over you and slanted his mouth to yours. 

The second your lips parted under his, Steve squeezed at your thighs and started fucking his hips into you, groaning at the way you keened prettily into Eddie’s kiss. The boy swallowed your sounds, licked into you dirty, his tongue a hot, soft slide over your own and the feeling of his top lip pressed to your bottom was maddening.  

It made you dizzy, the way both boys filled you up, the way they both seemed to know what you wanted, what you needed, how you liked it. Eddie’s hands came to cradle your face, tilted your jaw so he could kiss you deeper and eventually, it was nothing more than your open mouths pressed together as you cried out both their names. 

Steve was making sounds that you’d think about for a while to come, soft grunts and dirty whispers under his breath as he pushed you and himself closer to the edge. And Eddie was cooing, pressing the smallest of kisses to your lips in between filthy words.

“You gonna come, princess? Gonna come around Steve’s big cock? You are, aren’t you? I bet he can feel it, huh, Harrington? Is her pretty little cunt gettin’ tight for you?”

Steve let out a strangled gasp, a hand falling to hold at your side, fingers splayed across your ribs, thumb pushed to the soft of your stomach and his hips pistoned in and out of you. You felt yourself get impossibly wetter, a warm and then cold touch against your clit and despite Eddie’s curls blocking your view, you knew Steve had let a line of spit drip from his tongue onto your cunt, used his fingers to rub it into you. 

“M’gonna come, m’comingcomingcoming-” you were surprised the boys knew what you were saying, your words a sticky babble that got caught in your throat as you sucked in air and squeezed around Steve, hands flying to Eddie’s hair to tug at it. 

“Oh fucking hell, there you go, there you go,” Eddie was groaning, kissing every part of you he could reach while you pulled at his curls, tried to keep him close. 

“Christ, shit, good girl, baby, good fuckin’ girl,” Steve panted, fucking you through the way your back arched and your ass lifted off the couch. He grabbed your hips, pulled you into him until your were splayed across his thighs and fuck, shit, he lost all semblance of control. 

“Takin’ me so good, baby, so good, so good, shit,” he gasped out, hair falling into his face, nails leaving half moons on your skin and you cried out for him the whole time, his name leaving your lips in a messy whisper. “M’close, gonna come, let me come inside you, huh? Can I? Please baby, pleasepleaseplease-”

You nodded and thanked god for birth control, unable to say no to the way your best friend was begging to fill you up. You felt his hips stutter and still, the thick weight of his cock twitching inside of you as he let go and you knew then that this wasn’t the last time you let this happen.  

It was like you weighed nothing, the way Steve scooped you up. Your skin was as slick as his and felt boneless, messy and fizzing with aftershocks as Steve gathered you back into his arms and fell back into the couch with you. 

Your legs were spread over the outside of his, straddling him as the messy slick of you and him slid against his thigh and you whined at the sensation. Your arms were around his neck, forehead pressed to his mouth as he panted against you, lay kisses along your hairline and whispered to you how good you were. His cock softened against you and you tried to catch your breath, heartbeat quickening once more as you saw Eddie move to stand between Steve’s spread legs.

Steve kissed you soft and sweet, caught your face between both hands and smiled at you until your blurry gaze focused on him. Warm, brown eyes, freckles over his nose, a mess of hair and a pretty blush coloured bruise on his neck that you barely remembered giving him. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he murmured, “you with us?”

You were sluggish in the way you nodded, pushing your lips to Steve’s an unbelievably greedy need for him still and your voice was hoarse when you answered.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you whispered, “so good, Stevie.”

Steve knew what you meant, what you were saying, how you were talking about him. ‘Cause he felt the same, had the same rapid heartbeat that fluttered under your own but he could only nod and smooth his hands down your sides, pulling you into him so your back arched real pretty.

“Gonna let Eddie feel you too, hmm?” Another kiss, four hands on you, squeezing at your ass, pressing nicely at the small of your back. “He’s been so patient, hasn’t he?”

You squirmed, let Steve help you onto your knees as he held you over him, your hands curling around his shoulders for support. Eddie gripped your waist, swiped his fingers through your folds and hissed, pumping his cock in his fist a few times, painfully hard from the time you’d spent taking it down your throat. 

“You ready, princess?”

Eddie looked at Steve when you made a whine, a whimper, watching as the other boy’s gaze took in your hooded eyes and slack jaw. Steve grinned, looked back at Eddie over your shoulder and nodded.

“Yeah, she’s ready, Eds.”

The boy gasped out as he sunk himself into you, cock already throbbing at how you gripped him, hot and wet and tight from how hard Steve had made you come. He was intent on doing the same, hands bracketing your hips, one clasped over Steve’s as both your boys held you.

Eddie set a fast pace, hips rutting into you as you pushed back, bouncing on his cock as Steve murmured dirty words of praise from underneath you. His head was thrown back onto the sofa, eyes hooded as he watched you and Eddie through his lashes, feeling greedy as he brought you down to him with one hand on your jaw, kissing the moans from your mouth as Eddie sped up.

“So good for us,” Steve murmured, kissing a line across your jaw. He cooed at your whine, hooked your hair behind your ear and grinned something filthy when Eddie landed a sharp smack against your ass. “Like that? Yeah? Fuck, she liked that Eddie.”

The other boy swore, hips stuttering as he tried to control the urge to come already, gasping at the way your cunt fluttered around him with every thrust, every tap at your ass. He wanted it pink, rosy, matching the way Steve had marked up your neck, evidence of them on you everywhere. 

“You feel fuckin’ amazing,” Eddie groaned and Steve watched the way his brow crumpled, a lovely, pretty glow to his cheeks as his mouth fell open in a silent grunt. It was all too familiar. “Christ, m’already so close, fuckfuckfuck-”

Steve laughed a little mean, eyes glittering at the other boy as you keened, pushed your face into Steve’s neck to bite down and suck at the skin there. He petted at you, fingertips creating trails of goosebumps across your spine and he squeezed encouragingly at your thighs, helping Eddie keep you up, ass popped out real pretty for them.

“You hear that, sweetheart?” Steve said hotly against your ear, eyes still trained on his friend. “You’re makin’ poor Eddie lose it, he was talkin’ such a big game before, wasn’t he?”

Eddie swore, kept fucking you, glaring at Steve with as much heat as he could despite the way his cock twitched and jumped inside of you at the other boys taunting words. 

“Pussy’s too good, huh, hot shot?” Steve raised his brows, smirked at Eddie and wasn’t all surprised when he bent over you, made you groan into Steve as he sandwiched you between them.

Steve was ready, hooked his fingers into the chain that was glinting prettily around Eddie’s neck and he gave it a little tug. “You wanna come again for us, gorgeous?”

You lifted your head, eyes glazed over, lips swollen from all the attention and Steve swore up and down he’d never seen a prettier sight. You let your forehead fall against his, brought a hand back to your shoulder to tangle your fingers in Eddie’s curls and hold him there. 

“Fuck, yeah,” you gasped, “already close, Eds, can feel you everywhere, shit, keep going.”

It was enough to send him over the edge, a sinful groan coming from deep in his chest as Eddie let you and Steve hold him to you both, chest to your back as Steve’s handsome features went slack with awe as he watched you both.

He let go of your hip to reach under you, hand blindly brushing over Eddie’s wet cock as it slid in and out of you, making the other boy hiss. He hummed an apology, found your clit, sticky and swollen between your folds and made you jolt as he pressed down on it.

“Steve, fuck, sensitive,” you cried out, eyes fluttering as Eddie heaved out another wrecked gasp. You were close, he could feel it, your cunt squeezing at him and he fell forward, head to your shoulder as Steve fed him his fingers, silver chain still tangled between.

“That’s it,” Steve praised, eyes on both of you, “look at you, so pretty together, look so fuckin’ good, Jesus. Want you both to come, yeah? Gonna let Eddie come in you, baby? Let him fill you up too?”

That was it. The rubber band snapped, a hot, sharp rip as pleasure seared through you, Eddie chanting your name as he rutted into you, hips slamming into your ass as he came. Your release came in a soft cry, lashes wet with tears that Steve kissed away and his voice was a lifeline in your ear as you clung to him, falling forward to crush you face to his neck.

You came down with hands stroking at your hair, your back, Eddie hissing as he slipped out of you. It was dizzying, the silence that followed. Not awkward, not uncomfortable, just a static buzz in your head that felt like an electrical current.

Both of your boys were livewires, kissing down any piece of bare skin they could reach, neck, shoulders, arms, back, hips, calves, ankles. You hardly heard Eeddie leave, content to stay on top of Steve, legs aching as you breathed him in, a mix of mint and cologne, smoke from the party, sex and summer and fucking Eddie. 

“You okay?” he whispered, hands cupping your jaw to lift your tired head. Your eyes were closed but you nodded, smiled when his nose nudged yours. “Lemme see your eyes, baby, huh?”

Baby. Even after sex. It made you warm. Made you hope that this - whatever it all was - wasn’t over.   

You did as Steve asked, opened your eyes, lashes fanning over your cheeks as you blinked. He was close, tip of his nose rubbing sweetly over your own, back and forth, back and forth until you couldn’t take it anymore and pushed into his hands until you caught his mouth with yours. A soft kiss, short and lovely, just because after all those years, you felt like you could. 

Eddie returned with a warm washcloth and a pint glass of water, not breaking the bubble you had both created, but slipping back inside it, slumped into Steve’s side as you leaned over to give him a kiss too, just as good as Steve’s. Both boy’s tsked and cooed as Eddie cleaned you up, hand gentle between your legs and between the three of you, you downed the cold water, throats burning from all your noises, lips rosy from kissing.

The heavy silence returned, thick and warm and comforting like a blanket, a lovely soft hold around all three of you as Steve eventually led the way up to his bedroom, all of you holding various discarded clothing in your arms. You let Steve wrestle you into one of his shirts, old and stretched out, the collar hanging loose around one shoulder but Eddie just kissed the bare skin on show as you fell into bed beside him.

Steve slid in on the other side, bare chested and still unbelievably warm, like the sun lived in the spaces between his ribs, a pretty, pretty contrast to Eddie’s smoke and bourbon scent, hands decorated with cold, silver rings as they traversed your sides. 

No one said anything when you pulled both boys into you, Eddie curled around your frame like a backpack, his chest pressed to your spine, curls spilling wild and messy across the pillow you shared, just like him. It let you lay yourself across Steve, cheek pressed to his heart, a grounding thudthudthud under your ear, his hand in your hair and his eyes fluttering closed when you pressed one more kiss to the hill of his collar bone.

 “We’ll talk in the morning?” you dared to whisper into the dark, “about this?”

You didn’t sound scared, or regretful, both boys noticed, just unsure, hesitant, like you were expecting rejection, even with the way they were still glued to your sides. They were all encompassing, their bodies following the lines of your own as they settled into sleep and you. 

You felt Eddie nod, the line of his nose brushing up and down the back of your neck and he squeezed the arm he had around your waist a little tighter. Reassuring. 

“Yeah, princess,” he whispered, voice scratchy, full of sleep and smoke and sex, “we can talk in the mornin’.”

Steve backed up his sentiment with a thumb pressed to your cheek, a soft tap that made you look up at him, neck craned to see the way his eyes shone down at you in the low light. 

“We’re ready to talk whenever you are.”

ah, to have a monster who absolutely cherishes you. who builds you a a soft, fluffy nest to protect your delicate skin. who finds you all your favorite foods and puts them out on display for you to choose from. who tests every inch of your body to see what makes you happiest, what draws the loudest moans from your lips. who pays careful attention to making sure his cock fits inside you, and chases down your pleasure relentlessly. who licks you clean afterwards, then tucks you in, hoping he'll have a little monsterling to take care of soon, too.

Calling everyone on this website - including myself - out

Spooky Requests: Watching Charlie Brown Halloween with either Eddie or Steve...I'm not picky. <3

.... porque no los dos? jk jk but seriously i had fun with this even if we lost the plot a little bit. thank you jo ily very dearly, and apologize for how out of hand this little request got. also, fun fact. i've never seen charlie brown halloween. who's gonna change that this halloween season hmmmm

warnings: none! just lowkey idiots in love, some pining, the usual

pairing: steddie x fem!reader

wc: 9.2k+

“I can’t believe neither of you idiots have ever seen this classic! You both love Halloween.” 

Steve Harrington on a mission was a sight to behold. You were impressed, honestly. He had only found out about the crime, as he was calling it, of you and Eddie having never seen It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! that morning. And here he was, not even a full twenty-four hours later, having pulled together an impromptu movie night for the three of you to rectify the atrocities admitted. 

“I told you, Stevie,” Eddie lounges on the couch, already comfortable in his sweatpants and Halloween socks you had bought for him last year. One of the seasonal blankets Steve magically had hiding away in his apartment was already draped across his lap as he picked at the small pumpkins decorating the fabric, “I’m more of a horror movie Halloween buff. Gore, ghosts, slashers – the good stuff.” 

“Gross,” Steve absent-mindedly calls in response from the kitchen. You’re perched on the arm of the opposite end of the couch from Eddie, scowling as his feet peek out from under the blanket and he wiggles his sock-clad toes at you. 

Gross, you mouth in repetition at Eddie, not mocking Steve but instead insulting Eddie’s feet that he happily stretches across what should be yours and Steve’s seats. 

He raises his eyebrows as you both hear a cabinet in the kitchen opening loudly. Eddie’s eyes don’t leave your face as he yells over his shoulder, “Everything okay in there, Charlie Brown?” 

“Har, har,” Steve sarcastically replies, but only after a slightly concerning, long pause. 

“I’m gonna go help him,” you whisper, finally standing and swatting at Eddie’s legs, “And when I get back, I expect my seat to be free of your smelly, sweaty feet.” 

“Oh, come on,” Eddie leans his head back in laughter as you walk past him, rolling your eyes, “You know you love the stink, bab-”

He doesn’t get to finish the pet name as you reach out for his sorry excuse of a bun, giving a sharp tug that has him gasping. His hands are quick to wrap around the back of your knees, nearly tripping you. A small dispute begins, all slapping hands with no intention of inflicting real pain as Eddie lifts up properly, grinning brilliantly at the antics. 

Steve enters the kitchen doorway at the sound of the rustling to find you with both of Eddie’s wrists clutched between your hands, you leaning down to glare at him as he continues to look up with his boyish smirk. He can smirk all he wants, but it doesn’t distract from the glowing flush of his cheeks, all the awe in his eyes. It’s almost as fruitless to hide as your own secret enjoyment of his pest-like behavior. 

“Am I… interrupting something?” Steve awkwardly asks, shifting on his feet. 

You open your mouth to say no, absolutely not, but Eddie beats you to the punchline, “Actually, yes. Someone here thinks it’s funny to pull my hair before buying me dinner.” 

Sudden shyness, smothering embarrassment, floods your system as you quickly drop Eddie’s wrists. He revels in your reaction, dimples flashing as he reaches out once more to grab onto your thighs.

You’re too quick for him this time. Stepping outside of his reach effortlessly as you try to catch your breath. Damn him. 

Eddie Munson is a flirtatious tease. It’s in his blood; he is a pest, he is a flirt, and he is one of two absolute banes of your existence. 

The other just happens to still stand shocked in the kitchen doorway. 

“Do you need any help with snacks?” you grumble as you quickly shove past Steve and into the kitchen. Your gaze stays down, unable to look at either of the boys in the eyes for a moment as you head straight to where Steve has placed a bowl of popcorn. 

Some sort of silent exchange surely must be occurring behind you between them, but you don’t bother with glancing over your shoulder to confirm it. 

“Hey,” Steve finally follows behind you, grabbing the bowl of candy to your right, “Is everything alright?” 

Yeah, totally alright. Just feel like my heart could burst out of my chest every time the two of you tease me like that. Just hate the way I wish the insinuations held more weight. Just really, really wish I wasn’t so hopelessly infatuated with my two best friends. It’s fine. Just peachy. Totally alright. 

You forgo the internal dialogue spilling out into the air between the two of you, only shrugging and saying, “Fine. Why?” 

“Just making sure,” Steve plays it off as nonchalant. 

Maybe you should have spied on their private interaction. You’d assumed it was just joking glances or further teasing words exchanged, but maybe it had been something more. Something serious – concern for you, possibly. 

You really hope you hadn’t hurt Eddie’s feelings with the way you’d escaped the mortifying scene so quickly. It’d put a slight damper on what was clearly just meant to be a nice, comforting night filled to the brim with Halloween nostalgia. 

Steve clears his throat as you pick up the popcorn bowl and face him, face contemplative over words not quite forming on his open lips.

“Are you alright?” you question now, brows furrowing and hills of wrinkles forming between them. 

He stares directly at them for a second, more careful consideration, before whatever war raging in his mind comes to a standstill, “Can I ask you a question?” 

Oh, no. That’s never a good question to hear from one of your guy friends. Even with pining, assumingly unrequited crushes aside. 

“Sure,” you try to keep your voice steady, even adding a casual shrug to mask any signs of anxiety creeping in, “Ask away.” 

Is he about to ask if I have a crush on Eddie? Would I even admit I have a crush on Eddie? If I admitted to my crush on Eddie, would it be awkward to follow it up with an ‘Oh, but, hey! I also have a crush on you! No biggie!’? 

There was a good reason you’d never approached either boy about your feelings. Confusion. All the feelings were a confusing, tangled, head-ache inducing pain to navigate. Easier to swallow them down and lock them tightly in your chest than to rain down devastation on a perfectly good friendship trio. 

“Is there…” Steve pauses, licking his lips nervously, moving the bowl of candy from one hand to the other as if trying to procrastinate finishing his question, “Is there something going on between you and Eddie?” 

Oh.

Oh. 

Well, it’s certainly not the type of embarrassment you expected. 

“What?” you laugh skittishly, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like… are you two dating? Or, I don’t know – is there anything going on there?” 

“Why are you asking?”

“Why are you avoiding?” 

You both hit a stand-still, staring at each other with wide eyes. Your pupils are blown with fear of the exposure of your best kept secret, or at least half of it, but Steve’s seem to shine with something more. Like he knows something you don’t. 

“I’m not avoiding,” you choke out, “Nothing’s happening between us. He’s always a flirt, you know this. Just last week, he was making jokes with you about how you could spit in his m-”

“Don’t remind me,” Steve cuts you off, cringing slightly, “That was gross. He was way too committed to that bit when he started trying to spit in my mouth.” 

“You egged him on.”

“He ruined my appetite for a perfectly good strawberry milkshake.”

“You literally egged him on,” you laugh a little, glad for the subject change and that the spotlight was now on Steve, “Kept telling him he wouldn’t. You should know better than that by now.” 

Steve only shrugs and begins to walk out of the kitchen, you following right behind. 

He can avoid the topic all he wants, just as you tried to pathetically avoid the topic of there being anything between you and Eddie, but it doesn’t erase the fact that you’d never seen Steve Harrington blush before that night. 

Maybe he was asking if you two were a thing out of jealousy. And oh, how ironic it would be if you had to sit back and watch Steve grow the balls to do something about his feelings for Eddie before you could. The two men that drove you insane, ending up dating. 

The Universe is cruel, but you hope it isn’t that cruel. 

“Took you two long enough,” Eddie dramatically sighs when you two re-enter the living room. He’s still splayed out across the couch, feet digging into the cushions as if for emphasis of him ignoring your request, “Thought I was going to starve to death out here.”

“You weren’t going to starve to death,” Steve scoffs. When he slaps Eddie’s shins, the older boy finally moves his legs, sitting up as the blanket falls partially off his lap. 

“We can’t know that for sure.”

“I’m very sure you would have survived another five minutes.”

“Five whole minutes?” Eddie gasps, not letting the theatrics drop for one moment, “Jesus Christ, what the Hell were you two doing in there? Sucking each other’s faces off?” 

Son of a fucking bitch. 

You silently send up a plea to whatever greater power may be controlling the Universe, quietly insisting that both sides of Eddie Munson’s pillow are deathly hot tonight. 

Normally, you could handle all the teases, all the innuendos. Hell, you’d even been able to handle a sudden influx of the behavior these last few weeks from both of them. So you can’t quite pinpoint why they all seem to get to you tonight. Maybe it’s the way they seem specifically targeted at only you, none of Eddie’s suggestive comments being spared for Steve tonight. Or maybe, it’s the way both boys seem to lock their gazes on you after each one, waiting patiently as they anticipate your reaction. Gauging the way your eyes widen, drinking in the way your breath quickens. Like predators with prey, it just feels like they’re toying with you. 

You’re kind of grateful that you’re not watching one of Eddie’s normal slasher films tonight. At least Charlie Brown isn’t going to jumpscare you into one of them embarrassingly. 

You haven’t responded yet, and Steve is clearly not about to entertain Eddie’s comment nor deny it shyly as he usually would. So you take a big breath, put on your brave face, and smile.

“Oh, yeah,” you curse the shake in your syllables, “I can officially confirm that Stevie is the best kisser in all of Hawkins. Congratulations.”

You end in flourish, matching Eddie’s performance with your own as you set the popcorn down on the coffee table and bow. When you look up, Steve is flush as Eddie smirks. 

Again, not what you had expected. An eye roll from Steve, maybe some shock from Eddie at you keeping him on his toes. 

The only person being kept on their toes tonight, it seems, is you. 

Steve settles into the opposite end of the couch from Eddie before you can even fathom choosing a seat. 

Damn it. Middle seat it is, then. Definitely not having an internal panic attack about this. Not at all freaking out. 

The movie is already in the TV as you plop down between the boys, careful to not make direct contact with either. At this point, so much as a brush from their knee against yours would be equivalent to a terrible electric shock. You’re not in the mood for further teasing about being so skittish, or Eddie berating you for being scared of a movie like Charlie Brown. 

You should have known better. 

Eddie notices immediately, and instead of leaving it alone, he comments on it. Bastard. 

“Why so far away?” he starts off teasing, throwing half of the pumpkin blanket he was using over one of your thighs. Immediately, his body heat becomes your own, and you scorn the way you want to lean into it. Press into his side, succumb to whatever shitty drugstore cologne he was wearing and the way his last cigarette is probably lingering to that stupid band t-shirt, “You’re not scared that my smelly, sweaty feet are gonna bite, are you?”

“They could,” you blandly reply. 

Eddie and Steve share a look behind your head. 

Your arms cross protectively over your chest, and you know it looks as if you’re pouting, but you swear you aren’t. You swim in the denial, telling yourself that the sourness in your mood is only a result of being on edge. It was just a bad week for your childish crushes – the quicker you get the stick out of your ass, the quicker you can return to normal, and the quicker you can ignore all your desperate temptations. All those silly butterflies and disgusting chills you get when Steve brushes up against you to grab something that’s just out of your reach, when Eddie throws an arm around your shoulders and his curls tickle your cheeks. 

You’ll get over it. It’s fine. A perfectly cozy autumn night is no time to throw a pity party. 

When you glance at Eddie as Steve is clicking his way through the movie’s menu, you catch him already looking at you. There’s no trace of his usual joking or relaxed boyish features. He looks genuinely scared, genuinely concerned that he’s upset you. 

“Are you mad at me?” he whispers, straight to the point once he notices you looking back at him. 

Immediately, you’re shaking your head.

You’re not mad at him. You’re mad about him. You’re mad that his hair looks so soft, and you always wish for more sudden vulnerable moments where he lets his guard down and your fingers detangle the curls. You’re mad that his lips look very kissable, even in the dead of winter when they crack terribly and he arrogantly turns down all your offers of lip balm. You’re mad that every time he laughs hard enough that he lets his head fall to your shoulder, a warmth impossible to shake settles in your bones. 

And you’re mad for all the same reasons when it comes to Steve. 

It is ridiculous. Stupid, reckless, foolish. Best friends don’t envision taking each other on cute fall dates. Best friends don’t look for every possible excuse to touch one another, to flirt with one another, to just be near one another. 

You’ve fucked yourself over, really. Should’ve had half the mind to not fall for not only one, but both of your guy best friends. Idiot. 

“I’m not mad,” you hoarsely whisper back as Steve frowns when his remote doesn’t work on the TV, standing to go manually hit play, “I’m sorry, Eds. I’ve just- it’s been a shitty week with work and stuff. I’ve been kind of a dick tonight. I’m sorry.” 

Eddie visibly relaxes, moving to lay his arm on the couch behind your head. You do have half the mind to not freeze up at the proximity just as the side of his thigh presses against yours. 

Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up. Do not fuck this up. 

That giddy child within you that wants to write their initials with yours in a wobbly, pathetic goddamn heart is jumping with joy. Idiot. 

“Don’t apologize for that, sweetheart,” oh, fuck him for that endearment, dripping with adoration. You hate it solely for not being the type of adornment you wish you could afford, “Tonight’s a perfect distraction. Just us, a fuck ton of candy, and Charlie Brown with his big ass pumpkin.” 

“It’s called the great pumpkin,” Steve corrects as he returns to the couch. 

“To-may-toe, to-maw-toe,” Eddie brushes off, waving the hand not resting behind your head currently.

As Steve sits down, you can’t tell if it’s accidental or deliberate that he chooses to sit several inches closer to you. Suddenly, both thighs are now pressed up against each boy at either side of you. 

“Whatever,” he huffs, motioning across you for the blanket from Eddie, “Just share the blanket and shut up.” 

And despite being in your own personal Hell, the first hour or so of the cartoon goes fairly smoothly. Normal joking, plenty of Eddie’s manners going out the window as he makes comments through mouthfuls of popcorn, subtle passings of Steve unwrapping your favorite candies before handing them over to you without a word. It’s nice. For a moment, it’s the perfect fall night. 

“That’s you,” Steve reaches a hand across you to jab Eddie in the shoulder before pointing out Pig-Pen in his ghost costume on the screen, scribbled dirt around him bouncing about.

“Excuse me?” Eddie scoffs, leaning forward to properly glare at Steve. But there’s no hate there, only gentle joking and enjoyment flaming away behind dark brown irises, “I’ll have you know I showered for this, Harrington. Can you say the same?” 

You laugh quietly, stuck in the middle of the arguing boys as your eyes stay glued to the screen. 

“You showered? What a miracle.”

“Bite me, Charlie Brown.” 

You finally pull your eyes from the screen of the kids excitedly sharing what treats they received, trying to not smile at the iconic delivery of a deflated I got a rock as you peer up at Steve’s pouting lips.

He’s pretty, even this close. Faded freckles that will rest for the dreary months until the sun beckons them back to the surface come summer, full brows that still manage to frame his honeyed eyes even as he furrows them deeply. 

“I can’t hear the movie over you idiots,” you whisper as he locks gazes with you, “Shut up and pass me another Reese’s cup, will you?”

You don’t have to ask twice. Steve leans down without protest and does as you ask, going so far as to once more tear away the orange wrapper before he places the peanut butter cup delicately in your waiting palm. 

“Thank you.” 

“Anything for you, honey.” 

The words are more sincere than you’re prepared for. You know he means it as he looks at you with hazel eyes full of a desire, a longing, you’re not used to. Lashes fluttering, corners of his mouth pressing downward but not quite in discontent. He looks impossibly handsome without even trying. Effortlessly, he’s taking your breath away. You have to remind your chest to rise and fall, to remind yourself that this is nothing more than a movie night with friends. 

Be normal. Act normal. This is normal.

Except you feel anything but normal when Eddie’s arm falls from the back of the couch and around your shoulders. A clearly intentional move attempted to be brushed off as an accidental action. His skin strikes against yours like a match against grain, and the slow embers they’d been stoking for weeks now erupt from you in a field of goosebumps following the chill running down your spine. 

You don’t react. 

Not when his thumb trails over the top of your shoulder in soft, sweeping motions. Not when Steve’s head eventually replaces Eddie’s hand on your shoulders as he succumbs to the week finally catching up to him, and you become entranced in the scent of his minty body wash clashing with the soft coconut of his shampoo. Not when your own heavy head smushes uncomfortably against Eddie’s biceps and your own snores join Steve’s in a symphony barely breaking over the volume of the sweet cartoon on the screen. 

Eddie doesn’t wake either of you that night. Even when he really should. The three of you don’t finish the final thirty minutes of the movie, but it’s still the perfect fall night for all of you. 

Maybe you’ll untangle your feelings for the two boys come winter. 

—

“There’s no way you can lift that.”

“Fuck off, Harrington. Your pumpkin from last year was double this one in size.” 

“And I was still able to pick it up. If you can’t carry it, we’re not getting it. Simple as that.” 

Normally, you’d butt into Eddie and Steve’s arguments. Probably inject a comment about how it didn’t matter because there’s not a single pumpkin here that would ever be bigger than either of their heads — something sure to set them both off until you commanded their silence. Normally, you wouldn’t be so quiet.

But ever since the night of the Great Pumpkin, your mind has been restless enough to kill off any words before they can fall off your tongue. 

A cycle of overthinking and overanalyzing has been haunting you for a week now. The memory of Eddie’s fingertips pressing into the ditches of your knees, and that particularly heartstopping look from Steve as he’d so sweetly referred to you as honey. You told yourself you’d get over it, and the morning after had even been close to normal. You’d all woken up with aches in your neck from that uncomfortable sleeping situation on Steve’s couch, and Steve had even offered to pay for you all to just get bagels from your favorite restaurant a block away rather than destroy his kitchen in a mission to make breakfast. Eddie had ordered everyone’s coffee just the way they liked it, you’d repeatedly pointed out cream cheese on both boys’ upper lips repeatedly, and it had all been easy. 

And then you went home. And once the first nervous replay of the night began, it turned into an endless cycle. 

“The pumpkin has to be big for the design I’m doing, Steve,” Eddie continues to argue as he stands over a larger pumpkin on display. The boys had thought it’d be a good idea to visit the pumpkin patch today. 

They’d been right, of course. The weather was beautiful, crisp and dipping low enough to warrant cheesy fall attire. It’s the type of weather where you'd been able to break out a flannel and beanie, all without overheating. Families were walking through the small farm’s selection of pumpkins, children’s calls of glee could be heard from across the bales of hay, a distinct smell of cider off in the distance. The scene was set for a perfect autumn day. 

Except for your raging mind. That, unfortunately, had been killing the mood.

Steve looks at you desperately, a few steps away from the two of them. Just enough space that if their petty argument became too embarrassing, you could easily convince someone you didn’t know them, “Please talk some sense into him.” 

You hesitate before you finally give in and walk closer to Eddie. Your eyes focus on the oversized pumpkin rather than him. It’s too dangerous to fully drink him in; between his red flannel peaking out beneath his leather jacket and your beanie he had stolen to tuck over his own curls after complaining at the cooler weather, he looked too inviting. Too soft. Rosy cheeks and rosy lips called to you like a siren prepared to drown you in all the want that had begun to brew within your body since the movie night. 

“It’s a… big pumpkin,” you state in obvious observation. Eddie tries to work you with his doe eyes instantly, and you hate the way you can feel it working, “Steve’s right. If you can’t carry it to the car, how are we getting it into the house?”

“Steve’s strong.” 

At the mention of his name, Steve crosses his arms. And damn him, because the way his own brown corduroy jacket is straining over his biceps also has you dizzy with yearning, “I am not carrying that fucking thing into the house.” 

“Why not? You’re a big, strong man-“ Eddie starts, almost tauntingly with a wicked grin, making you finally step in between them.

“The bigger the pumpkin, the bigger the mess,” you point out. Steve nods in solidarity, but Eddie is obviously unconvinced, “Eds, I’m not cleaning up all those pumpkin guts this year.”

A look of betrayal crosses his face, mingling with long lashes and faded dimples, “I swear I’ll clean up after myself. I wouldn’t do you like that, baby.” 

There it is. You’d gone this entire day so far without any of Eddie’s usual flirtatious approaches. It had almost seemed like the two men had finally reigned themselves in. 

Clearly, they hadn’t. They were just waiting for the right time.

“Pack up the puppy dog eyes, Munson. You’re a terrible liar,” you mumble out, pulling your own jacket tighter around your body as you move closer to Steve. He hadn’t started any onslaughts of flirting. Yet. 

The moment you get near him, he wordlessly drops his faux irritation at Eddie and opens his arms, beckoning you to step into his space. You almost hesitate, but it was normal. The three of you were always touchy, and it was never a problem before. 

Maybe if it had been, you wouldn’t be in your current predicament.

It’s clear he had taken a shower before the outing as your nose smashes against his t-shirt, the clear scent of his minty body wash and coconut shampoo replacing the air of fall around you. His arms are quick to wrap around your shoulders, only encouraging your body to press further into him. And you let him, because he’s warm, and despite all your teasing of Eddie’s complaints about the weather, you agreed that the chill was particularly unforgiving today. Especially in the shady patches void of sunlight. 

The only real sunlight seemed to emit from the boy wrapped around you. He’s all tousled shades of golden and leftover fatigue from the early waking to make it out to the pumpkin patch at opening. As he hums into your embrace, you choose to just appreciate it, revel in it. 

Eddie is pouting behind you, but out of sight – out of mind. 

“I’m getting this pumpkin,” he says decidedly, “Fuck both of you.” 

“Would you say it’s your great pumpkin?” you murmur against Steve, letting your eyes close, wondering if it’s possible to fall asleep standing up in this position. 

Only Steve laughs at your joke, and you can’t tell if it’s because only he found it funny or if it’s because only he heard your reference to the unfinished movie from the night before. 

It doesn’t matter, because the entire moment is interrupted when an older woman who had been bearing witness to the entire interaction suddenly speaks up.

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest couple?” 

All the warmth leaves your body, each muscle slowly stiffening as Steve tenses. You almost convince yourself that she wasn’t speaking to you, that there was another couple standing somewhere nearby that were currently gathered in embrace for her to coo at. 

And then Steve answers her, “Us? Oh, we, uh-”

“Aren’t they?” Eddie interrupts, mischief dripping off each word as you slowly lift your head and open your eyes back to the grey day, “So in love it makes me sick to my stomach.” 

Steve coughs up a few more syllables of protest, but Eddie has already done the damage. When you turn to face the lady, she’s wearing a brilliant smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as she looks at you and Steve in glee. 

“Oh, I still remember that feeling,” she continues, a cloud of pure nostalgia glazing over her eyes for a moment before she looks to Eddie, “Don’t worry, dear. You’ll find it one day too, just like your friends.” 

Eddie snorts. Easily mistaken as possible annoyance, inherent jealousy. Only you and Steve know better. 

“We…” you begin, trailing off when you look up at Steve and see him brimming with hope. You expected discomfort, you expected irritation at whatever game Eddie was playing – you didn’t expect optimism at the prospect of you two being perceived as a couple. The ending to your sentence dies on your tongue, and you choose a polite response instead, “Thank you.” 

Was there any real harm in letting some little old lady believe you two were in love? Probably not, especially considering the way she lights up and your faux admission satisfies her. An exchange of have a good day sends her on her way, and she never catches the way Eddie hunches over in laughter once she’s out of earshot. She doesn’t catch Steve Harrington blushing red or the way his arm swings out to smack Eddie in his chest, and she never notices the way you stand in the same place Steve left you, cold and confused and… disappointed? 

No harm, no foul. 

It was all a joke, anyways. 

And that’s all it will ever be, even as you linger back and watch your boys continue their banter, all the while a hollow ache questioning just why the prospect of all that puppy love and youthful oblivion is so funny between the boys. Why the idea of one of them being yours, is so damn funny. 

You kind of felt ridiculous. Even more ridiculous than Linus had been, waiting in that pumpkin patch for some great pumpkin to appear. You wish it were just silly children tales and blind hope at play. Your great pumpkin was a little more twisted, a little more complicated; an impossible choice, a gnawing conundrum you will never unravel. 

If you could make a choice, it might be easier.

But why would ever need to make a choice when all it will ever be to the two boys who have come to plague your every waking thought as nothing more than a joke? 

Eddie gets his great pumpkin, and Steve ends up carrying it into the house that day. You’re the only one to return home with more than just empty arms. 

—

Halloween parties are the perfect recipe for disaster. 

Spiked cider, struggling fog machines, loud replays of Monster Mash, and a small crowd of half-assed costumes. Every other year, your friends had thrown this type of ‘spooky’ themed get-together, and you would enjoy every single moment of it. Quite literally, every single moment – from the terrible and impromptu karaoke sessions to the ridiculous apple-bobbing contests that Argyle always excelled at. It was always a night full of light, a night full of laughter. Something to leave your chest feeling fizzy as it would always end surrounded by all your favorite people, particularly Eddie and Steve. 

This year, it feels like more of a burden. 

You’re feeling like something hollow, something monstrous – no costume required – as you stew in quiet misery for the first few hours. The movie night and the pumpkin patch visit have left you feeling something new. Something that had grown claws and growled to be recognized in all its painful yearning and pitiful pining. 

Steve questioning you about having something more with Eddie had driven a knife into your chest, and the prospect of being seen as a couple with Steve had torn it free of your ribs. Not quite bleeding, but not quite healing, you’d been haunted by a series of what-ifs that stole away hours of sleep and any time of relaxation you’d normally seek as all the leaves changed colors. 

What if you wanted something more with Eddie?

What if you wished that you and Steve were a couple? 

What if you could never make a choice? 

The allusion of a choice to be made still dangled on the forefront of your buzzing cortex. It still felt just as ridiculous as the first time you’d realized you’d been experiencing more than platonic feelings for your best friends; like a child outside a candy store, without money and without hope to go home with any of the sweets that made your mouth water. Everyone could see you staring in through the windows, you swore they could, and they were probably silently mocking the way you drooled. It was stupid.

It was putting a real damper on your entire mood. 

“What’s up with you?” Robin questions finally as she walks up to where you sit on the balcony of her shared apartment with Nancy. At some point, you’d decided the frigid chill of the night would be a better place to soak in all your misery. 

“What do you mean?” you blandly ask, not even looking up from the railing your eyes had focused on. 

Robin joins you on the garden couch, shifting the flimsy seating a bit from the force of her throwing herself down dramatically, “I mean, why are you out here all alone? And why have you been so quiet tonight? Did something happen?” 

Straight to the point. One of the reasons you liked Robin – her lack of a filter was something you’d always seen as more of a gift rather than a curse. 

“Nothing happened,” you shrug, head feeling light despite the storm that had been brewing for nearly the entire month now. Your fingertip trails around the rim of the now-warm bottle of cider you’d been nursing after chugging two previously. You wanted to be drunk. You wanted to down enough alcohol that you wouldn’t even remember Steve and Eddie’s names by the end of the night.

“You’re doing that thing they do in the movies,” Robin notes, finally making you look at her with raised eyebrows, “You know, where they say nothing’s wrong but it’s all… sad,” she waves her hands erratically through her ramble of an explanation, one hand clutching her own bottle of beer. You can see the condensation through the lowlights and simply know her adult equivalent of apple juice is far cooler than yours. Probably tastes better, too, “Like, something is obviously wrong, but you’re gonna make me work for the answer.” 

You laugh under your breath. The silence is filled with static noises of night; you can still hear the chatter of your friend group and whatever Halloween-themed song they were playing over the speakers through the shut sliding door, an orchestra of insects hum their complaints through the dark apartment complex, a soft whistle of the fall breeze rustles all the trees lurking in the shadows. 

She’s right. It’s dramatic, it’s stupid, it’s ridiculous – and she’s right. 

You sigh out and feed into your theatrics as you fall back against the cushion of the couch, finally matching her slouch, “Have you ever watched the Charlie Brown Halloween special?” 

“What?” she scoffs, no trace of rudeness in her remark but rather confusion, “You mean the one where all the kids are trick-or-treating, and that one weirdo is waiting for some magical pumpkin king with that other girl? What does that have to do with-” 

“I feel like that weirdo,” you interrupt, staring straight ahead, “Like Linus. Just standing in a pumpkin patch and waiting for some great pumpkin that isn’t going to show. And I know I look silly, but a part of me really believes, y’know? I just can’t stop waiting for something to happen that might never-” you cut yourself off with a sharp breath. That wound in your chest, the one only you can see, throbs. Not bleeding, not healing. Just yearning as you correct yourself, “For something that won’t ever happen. Ever. There’s no great pumpkin, and I just end up looking like a fool.” 

Robin’s silence is unnerving. No amount of sounds of the night can blanket over the discomfort begging to bubble over. 

“I think I’m just drunk,” you try to save yourself, “I’m sorry, it’s dumb-” 

“What’s your great pumpkin?” she asks carefully, “What are you waiting for?” 

The alcohol must really be having an affect, because your loose lips are finally moving to their own accord. 

“Eddie and Steve.” 

She scrunches her face, “What about those dinguses?” 

“They’re my great pumpkin.” 

You’re clearly nonsensical as Robin shifts to lean forward, entering your blank line of sight, “Are you…. Like, you want them to get together? Sorry, I’m not really following here, Linus.” 

The nickname almost makes you smile. Almost. 

“I mean, not really,” you try to forage your brain for the right words to explain, but there’s no poetic way to put what’s been on your mind, “I like them. Both of them. Have for a while now, but it’s… it doesn’t really matter, anyways.” 

You’re drunk enough to not hear the tapping on the sliding door. And if Robin does, she makes no move to react to it, still focused on you. 

“You like both of those idiots? Oh, thank god,” she almost sounds relieved, and your head snaps to her direction. 

You still don’t see the figure standing inside the doorway, moving to open the door. 

“Thank God?” you laugh humorlessly, “I am not thanking God. It’s miserable, Robs. I like them both so fucking much, and I just- what am I supposed to do with that? They’re my best friends, and I should know better. Besides, liking two guys at once can never work out. What am I supposed to do? Shove them into a room with me and go, ‘oh, hey, I like both of you. And I can’t choose, so I’m just going to make you live with that. Also, Eddie, lay off the flirting, because it sort of makes my heart stop and my chest all tight. And Steve, please don’t call me honey, because it also makes me feel all terribly weird. But also neither of you ever stop either of those things, because I might keel over and die if I’m not receiving all your affections, platonic or otherwise.’” 

Your admittance all comes out in one breath, saying exactly what you wish you could say to the two boys. You don’t care how foolish you sound to Robin right now – the cider has taken care of all your shame. 

It’s just nice to say it outloud. 

Very nice, in fact, until movement behind Robin catches your eye, and you realize you had not been alone during your ramble. 

Eddie. 

“Oh, fuck me,” the normally internal dialogue comes out as a sigh, eyes wide in stricken fear as Robin turns to face your own waking Hell. 

“Welp,” Robin’s very helpful reaction tries to break the tension to no avail, “I… I think I’ll leave you two alone. I’ll- Yeah. I’m gonna go.” 

She jumps up before you have the chance to reach out and stop her. Your hand aches to just wrap around her forearm, to beg her to not leave you alone to burn with all your shame and embarrassment, but she’s gone before you’ve even moved a muscle. 

Her seat vacated, and in her absence, Eddie takes her place. 

Kill me. Kill me now, please. Have mercy on me-

“So…” Eddie begins, fiddling with his hands as he looks down at his lap. In the shadows, you don’t see the ghost of a grin on his lips, “You like us?” 

“If you’re about to make fun of me,” you state flatly, bristling in your seat, all liquid confidence beginning to evaporate, “I’d rather you save me the embarrassment, and just kill me. Make it quick and painless, please.” 

All your pity partying was easier to swallow than this. You liked your brooding solitude far more than the acceptance that Eddie had just heard your very mortifying speech, liked the assumption that you might have been upset with the boys more than them knowing the truth. 

Eddie throws his hands up in surrender, “Not making fun of you. I swear.” 

“Well, if you’re about to reject me, can you also make that quick and painless?” 

“Who said I was rejecting you?” 

“I know it’s fucking weird and I just ruined everythin- wait, did you just say you’re not rejecting me?” 

You were so convinced that the outcome would always be bloody, always painful and bitter, that you hadn’t prepared for this. You had a hundred and one speeches prepared about how you agreed with the boys, how you were all better off friends and how you would reassure them that in a few months’ time, you’d be able to get over the silly crushes.

There were no practiced words on the tip of your tongue for the instance in which they found out and reacted well. 

Eddie continues to grin under the lowlight of the porch light, looking at you sideways, not a single glimpse of him running from this evident. 

“I’m not rejecting you,” he repeats himself, shuffling a bit closer on the couch, “And I’m definitely not making fun of you.” 

You’re a bit speechless still. He’s close enough that his shoulder brushes yours, his knee briefly bumping the side of yours in an attempt to get you to look at him. Like a moth to the flame, you dare to turn your head, to fully take in the proximity. 

“You did hear everything I said, right?” you can imagine the way the scent of cider mingles with your breath as you whisper softly to him. You almost consider grabbing what’s left of your third, or fourth possibly, bottle and just chugging as you had done with your previous drinks. 

But being drunk would be a penniless attempt. When Eddie is looking at you like this, there is no amount of alcohol that could combat the sobering effect he has on you. The chill in the air hadn’t done it, the lingering smell of a bonfire somewhere in the distance was futile – but those big, brown eyes shocked you right out of your inebriated state. 

Endless. They were endless in entertainment, in bewitching, in calling out to the wound in your chest. The gash might even be bleeding finally at this point as your heart hammers and your bones threaten to break. 

“Every. Single. Word,” his lips spread thinner as he punctuates each word, corners of his mouth upturning to impossible heights, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stop all my flirting? Because, by all means, I can. It would be a shame, though, considering I was right.” 

You hardly notice the way you’re leaning in closer to him, “Right about what?” 

When he meets you halfway, own body succumbing to the gravitational pull you possessed and had no idea of, you finally note the further lack of distance. 

“Right about you liking us,” his breath hits your chin as he sighs, “Right about the fact that you don’t squirm every time I joke about kissing you because it makes you uncomfortable. At least, not in the way Steve always assumed,” he pauses, body slowly angling towards yours. The only symptom of his nerves you’re able to catch is the hard swallow, as if he’s keeping all his fears at bay before he continues, “I need to ask you something, and this time, it is not a joke.” 

Maybe the creators of Charlie Brown should have let Linus drink. Then, he would have seen his great pumpkin, just as you were now. 

“Ask away,” you expect it to come out as a stutter, to falter and trip over your request.

But you don’t. Even in your fuzzy state of mind, you’ve never been more sure of what Eddie is about to ask of you. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your reply is half an eager nod, half a pathetic mumble of please. The moment Eddie has your permission, his lips find yours, sour from cider and sweet from candy. 

It’s better than your overactive imagination had been able to conjure the last few weeks – last few months. Once you two find some sort of broken stride, an exchange of lips and teeth and tongue that feels right, you almost scold yourself for having sat in fear for so long. You should be mulling over the way this wouldn’t end well, the way this was too good to be true, but you can’t. When your fingertips tangle up the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck, and his own hand rests gently around your throat as he pulls you closer, you don’t second guess anything. 

You’re kissing Eddie. He knows you like him, knows you like Steve as well, and he’s kissing you. 

Right around the time you’ve nearly found yourself in Eddie’s lap, and all the air in your lungs has been stolen, the sliding door to the balcony opens again. You don’t want to break apart from Eddie – you think you’d rather take another metaphorical knife to the chest than do so – but he’s quick to separate without giving you a choice. 

If you weren’t so terrified of coming across as something too needy, a greedy animal full of whines of protest, your lips would have chased after him. 

Instead, your eyes flutter back open to find Steve Harrington standing behind Eddie, eyes wide as they can go as he takes in the scene he’s walked into. 

In an instant, you jump backwards, putting distance between yourself and Eddie as a symphony of curses ring through your mind like alarms, “Steve.” 

Eddie has the nerve to merely smile. 

“Nice of you to join us, big boy,” he calls casually over his shoulder as Steve walks further out onto the balcony. Your heart is still beating out of your chest, realizing what Steve had just witnessed.

You fucked up. 

“Steve, I didn’t-” you start to try to defend yourself, but it feels a bit useless as he looks right at Eddie, almost as if awestruck.

“Robin came and got me, what the fuck happened?” 

You wish you could wipe the floor with Eddie’s smugness, momentarily forgetting all the emotions he had just pulled from you with a simple kiss as he smirks up at Steve, “I was right.” 

You try to anticipate Steve’s reply. A play by play of a fight that might break out, a rejection still waiting to happen, a punchline that had yet to land. 

His lack of reply is almost worse. 

He glances down at you, eyebrows quirked in curiosity as all the hurried energy leaves him in slow spurts. His shoulders drop in relaxation, near relief, and a soft smile plays at his lips. Once curled fists now unfurl, subtly swiping away sweaty palms on the sides of his denim-covered jeans. Every action, every smoothing over in his anxiety, sends you sinking deeper into the cushions. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you mutter, shrinking under his gaze. 

“Because he was right,” Steve takes a slow step forward, still underplaying his smile, “Because that shithead was right, and you like us.” 

It hadn’t occurred to you that they had discussed this. It was never a possibility in your mind that they’d also been running over scenarios, considering their own what-ifs all the while you’d been losing your mind. 

But it makes sense. 

Why else would they have continued to flirt with you this way? Why else would there have been such a steady progression in how far they were willing to take all the jokes, all the bits? Months of memories flash before you, and the final click into place occurs when Steve drops into what little space was left on the other side of you. It forces you to scooch over, press even closer to Eddie, leaving you to be completely sandwiched between the two men tightly. 

There’s still a little bit of bravery left somewhere in you. Just a spark, but enough to have you looking at Steve with determination.

“Hey, Steve?” 

“What’s up, honey?” 

Eddie’s squeak of laughter doesn’t go unnoticed. But you refuse to react and lose this momentum. 

“Can you kiss me?” 

If you were reading this entire scenario correctly, drunk or not, the answer would be yes.

No choices necessary. You could have your cake, and eat it too. 

Steve looks past you, over your shoulder and at Eddie, “You’re drunk, honey-”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insist, “I promise, I want this. Sober or not. Just…” you falter finally, taking a deep breath. Steve’s cologne, Eddie’s last cigarette lingering on his jacket, and the crisp autumn air fill your lungs. “One kiss. Nothing more. I swear.” 

“You really gonna make her beg, Harrington?” 

“Fuck off,” Steve’s softness when it comes you isn’t extended to Eddie, sending a warning glance the other boy’s way, “The only reason you’re not on my shit list is because you’re also plastered.” 

“I’m not plastered,” you and Eddie say in sync. 

Just like that, the high-rise tension has broken. Eddie rests his chin on your shoulder, clearly no longer afraid of the closeness that had become a normal before the ‘unfortunate’ overhearing of your admission. His arms wrap around your waist, pout on his lips as his temple leans against your hair. 

“You’re lucky you’re both cute, you know that?” Steve muses, shaking his head softly. 

You’re both cute. The sweet amusement nearly stitches up the once gaping hole in your chest immediately. 

“You gonna kiss her or not?” Eddie’s voice is loud in your ear despite his low volume, chin moving against the apex of your shoulder, “Because if not, my lips are growing awfully cold-”

Steve’s hand lifts and thumps Eddie’s forehead immediately, loud enough for you to hear the impact as he leans off of you dramatically, letting out a groan of complaint. 

You almost turn, a bit too eager to witness theatrics you’d normally roll your eyes at, when Steve’s palms cradle your cheeks with unexpected softness. 

“Hey, look at me, yeah?” he barters. And his wish is your command, your attention wholly his as you look at him worriedly. Although the sentiment of him hesitating to kiss you while drunk was sincerely endearing, you don’t know if you could handle any form of rejection right now. 

You bite your lip, and Steve’s thumb is quick to come and tug gently below your mouth, forcing your bottom lip to be freed from between your teeth. 

“One kiss,” he says sternly, brows furrowing, “I’ll kiss you, mostly because I’m a selfish bastard who’s terrified you won’t ask again when sober, but we are talking about this in the morning,” he leans back a little, and looks at Eddie pointedly, “All of us.” 

“Stop stalling and kiss h-”

Eddie never gets to finish his sentence. 

Steve kisses differently than Eddie, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s more sober or if that’s just how it is. But it’s something you’d like to learn; you’d like to memorize the patterns of both their lips, the differences in the touch of their hands as they pull you in deeper, the comparison of Steve’s stable and sure hands versus Eddie’s shaking and coloused ones. 

Steve is a generous kisser, a follower at your beck and call. He lets you set the pace and lead the way. You control when the two of you pull back for air, when his teeth graze at your bottom lip, when he lets out soft and pretty sighs into the kiss. He’s all sweetness, none of the sour you’d tasted on Eddie’s tongue to be found. 

Just like honey. 

How fitting. 

When Steve finally takes an inch of control and releases you, formally ending the kiss and leaving you just as breathless as Eddie had, you swear you’re seeing stars. You’re dizzy with want. You wish you hadn’t chugged those beers, you nearly consider getting down on your knees and begging both men for more. They’ve given you what you’d craved, and more, but you’re a selfish animal. Prepared to dig in your claws and call for more than you bargained for. 

“One kiss,” he reminds you when you lean in for a second. He’s smiling like he might let you get away with it if you really pushed for it, though. 

You play innocent instead, leaning back until your back nearly bumps into Eddie’s chest. 

“One kiss,” you nod, fighting back a smile as you look at the man before you. 

A great pumpkin indeed. 

“You know, I don’t have a one kiss policy,” Eddie sighs from behind you, and you can feel the way he throws himself back on the couch. 

When Steve rolls his eyes, you truly believe he’s about to only offer a snarky reply rather than what he does instead.

He places a warm palm on the center of your back, encouraging you to lean forward with care before he’s reaching out for the collar of Eddie’s shirt and dragging behind you for a quick kiss.

You nearly break your neck just to witness the tail end of it all. 

“There, happy?” 

Eddie is just as shocked at you, flushing scarlet all the way down his neck, sinking beneath the collar of his t-shirt. 

“I- Uh-” he stutters out, at a loss for words, “Y-Yeah. I- Yeah, very happy.” 

“Good,” Steve seems satisfied as he guides you back into place, practically manhandling you to lay back in your seat so that your shoulders are comfortably pressed to both his and Eddie’s side, “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go back in there, enjoy the party with our friends, and you two drunk idiots are going to stay out of trouble. And then come tomorrow morning, we’re going to get breakfast, deal with your absolute monsters of hangovers, and… talk about this,” he pauses and vaguely gestures at the three of you with a small smile, “Capiche?” 

“Aye, aye, capt’n,” Eddie murmurs as you whisper back an echo of “capiche”. 

“Yeah?” Steve questions again, catching your eye with a smug smile. 

“Yeah,” you nod, speaking up a bit louder as you decide to take one last daring risk, “I do have one last request, though.” 

“Hit me, honey.” 

“You know, she allegedly hates when you call her hon-” 

“Shut up,” Steve cuts Eddie off, focus on you and only you, “Ignore him. What’s your request?” 

You look between the two boys, realization settling heavily as you recognize that this is real. You had yearned, you had pined, you had wanted until every nerve-ending in your body had ached, and now? Now you have them. Technicalities aside, you had gotten all that you had craved. 

And to think you’d assumed you’d be waiting until winter to unravel all that now sat in the palm of your hands. 

“Can we have a movie night?” you ask, a bit meeker than intended, “Maybe… I dunno… finish that Charlie Brown movie?” 

Eddie’s laughter from behind you is music to your ears, and the smile that spreads across Steve’s cheeks should be hung up in a museum for your perusing whenever you please. 

“Yeah, of course we can,” Steve assures you, a hand coming down on your knee, “Right, Eds?” 

“I suppose,” Eddie sighs. His arm is on your shoulders, just like that first night, and this time you let the match ignite. 

Honestly, the flames had engulfed you long ago. You just wish it hadn’t taken you so long to succumb to their warmth reflected in the brown eyes of the boys on either side of you. 

The three of you do rejoin the party. Finding a bit of enjoyment now that you aren’t drowning in your pity party. Steve is right in his prediction of the hangovers – it might be one of the worst you’ve ever had the privilege of experiencing – but after a very sincere talk with your boys (including an only slightly grumpy Eddie, it’s worth it. 

And when the three of you do finish your movie night, this time shamelessly cuddling up and sneaking kisses between sweet scenes, you can’t help but giggle at Linus finally seeing his Great Pumpkin.

At least you know yours is the real deal, especially when Eddie is the one to fall asleep this time in the final ten minutes, his head in your lap and Steve’s hand tangled in his curls.

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doms who are inside you before you can even wake up, whispering things like "I'm sorry baby you just looked so good I couldn't help myself" as they thrust inside you without giving you a chance to adjust to being stretched out around them >>>