#eddie's microfics

[underburningstars]

one of us is dead 1

(1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30,31)

for @jegulus-microfic prompt cemetery, wc 279

“Okay, but isn’t this kinda cringe? A huge ass abandoned mansion behind a creepy fucking cemetery in a bumfuck town in the middle of nowhere. And what’s more? The place was apparently so foggy only a week ago that no one could see past the trees, but suddenly the fog is gone, and the view is all clear. How can anyone miss such a big mansion built on a goddamn hill? No matter the fog. And moreover–”

“Are you scared, Crouch?” Sirius cuts his rambling off. “Because if you are, you can turn around and leave.”

“I’m not scared!” Barty defends. “I’m being realistic.”

“Don’t,” Sirius deadpans. “It’s creepy.”

“You–!”

“Shut up, both of you,” Regulus snaps. “I don’t think the map the locals gave us is entirely accurate. We might just have to go in blind.”

“Obviously, the map is inaccurate,” Barty scoffs. “The townsfolk didn’t even want to acknowledge the existence of the mansion. Even when they could fucking see it.”

“That’s what makes it all the more interesting! Why was the place covered in fog? Where did all the fog go? Why the hell are people so scared of it? Man, I have a good feeling about this place.” Sirius looks ready to vibrate out of his skin with excitement. 

“You’re the only person in the world who has good feelings about haunted mansions, you freak,” Barty mutters, and these two start arguing again. 

“Let’s hurry up and go in, you idiots,” Regulus sighs. “I have no desire to waste the day standing outside, listening to your bullshit.”

Regulus pushes the door open with his gloved hands. They step inside, and the door closes behind them. 

[steddiefication]

The first time Steve goes to Eddie and Wayne’s trailer, he tells Eddie that he likes how cozy it is. Eddie shoots him a dirty look before turning to go straight to his bedroom, no doubt thinking that his tentatively new friend meant it in the same way he’s heard other rich people use that word- when they think a place is small and cramped, but don’t want to look bad by saying what they truly mean.

Meanwhile, Steve barely notices the reaction, too caught up in thinking about how lonely it is in his parents’ big, empty, sterile-feeling house. How it looks as though it’s from a catalogue- nice but impersonal, with little indication that anyone even lives there. How he wishes it was instead like the trailer he was standing in- not just a house, but a home.

[whathehonestfuk]

"Ive dreamt about this before" Steve mentioned off hand as he began wetting down eddies hair

"What having me wet naked and at your mercy?" Eddie jokes clearly trying to cover up the general uncomfort from the situation of needing help showering.

"No in those I'm usually the one at your mercy" Steve answers casually, immediately forcing Eddie to untwist from where he had tried to look at Steve at shock at the statement "I was talking about your hair, its nice but it would be so pretty if you took care of it" he continued as if he hadn't just admitted to fantasizing about being at eddies mercy.

"Time to make your dreams come true big boy"

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Moles

written for @steddiemicrofic July

prompt: one || wc: 111 || rating: T || cws: nudity, excessive fluff

~~~

"One.” Poke.

“Two.” Poke.

“Threeee--”

“Eddie, babe, you can't count them all,” Steve sighs, lying naked on his stomach. Eddie's soft now, pressed alongside him, fingertips roaming his back. 

“You have no idea what I'm capable of, sweetheart.” Obnoxiously waggling his eyebrows, a wicked grin paints his face.

“You tried last night and failed,” Steve chuckles.

“Maybe you're right.” Eddie bites his shoulder, and Steve yelps. “But this time, I've got a marker.”

Head lost to the clouds, Steve's eyelids feel heavy with love.

“Four. Five. Six.”

Poke. Poke. Poke.

It feels wet, smells sharp.

“Wait,” Steve gasps, flailing for Eddie's hands while his boyfriend laughs maniacally, “you've got a what?”

[thefreakandthehair]

smooth operator

written for ‘hole’ | wc: 404 | rated: m | cw: n/a @steddiemicrofic

Crowd-work is Eddie Munson’s favorite part of stand-up. It’s actually become a niche of sorts, and tonight is no different.

“Something I’ve noticed in my time fucking men,” Eddie leads with, strolling across the makeshift stage, “is that you can tell how hot a guy is by how he takes off his shirt.”

The audience chuckles collectively.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. We’ve all seen movies. You, in the navy blue,” Eddie gestures with his chin at a man sitting at a hightop with two girls. “You’re a good-lookin’ guy. Let’s see if you’re hot. Show us how you take your shirt off.”

Without hesitating, Blue Shirt stands up and in one swift motion, grabs the back of his shirt with one hand and tugs it off over what Eddie tries not to think is perfectly soft, perfectly messy copper locks. Turns out, it’s easy to not think about his hair, because every rational and coherent thought he’s ever had about anything comes to a screeching halt.

It kills his set because that’s not the Hot Guy Method he’s been referring to but there’s not a chance in cold, dark Hell he can stand on stage and lie in front of this cheering, clapping audience. This guy is fucking hot.

“Oh my God,” he says in the microphone as Blue Shirt shrugs and flushes, just a hint of pink crawling from the hollow of his throat to his cheeks. “That’s never worked before. That’s never worked. I did not— wow, I did not see that coming.”

The crowd continues to laugh and applaud, Blue Shirt sitting confidently on his barstool with his shirt still in hand. Motherfucker doesn’t even have the decency to put it back on so Eddie can move on.

He’s really dug himself a fucking hole with this one, huh?

“Jesus H. Christ, I meant to do the motion. And that’s— listen, that wasn’t the hot way I meant but for the first time ever, audience, I admit defeat. I don’t know what the Hell just happened, but that’s the hot way now.”

Blue Shirt raises his glass and fucking winks at him, before calling out in response. “Buy me a drink after the show and I’ll show you the hot way to take off a belt, too.” 

Eddie’s jaw falls open and Blue Shirt wiggles his eyebrows with a smirk. 

author's note: sometimes, you see a video of a stand-up comedian and drop literally everything you're doing to make it about your blorbos. this is one such time. @henderdads @steddieasitgoes it’s here!

[steveseddie]

hot stuff

@steddiemicrofic prompt: stuff, 483 words rated: t | cw: none | tags: pre-relationship, steve has a crush, he blurts it out while helping eddie pack to move to his new trailer

***

Steve shoves another DnD handbook into one of the boxes scattered around Eddie’s room. “Dude, why do you have so much stuff?”

Across the room, Eddie snorts. “Excuse me for wanting my bedroom to have some personality, Mr. Plaid-Wallpaper.”

Steve rolls his eyes, putting away some sketchbooks next. His eyes catch something else on Eddie’s desk. “This doesn’t match your personality. You hate sports,” Steve bitches, one hand on his hip, the other holding the basketball.

“Oh, that’s not mine.” Eddie smirks. “I stole it from some jocks.”

“You stole- a basketball?”

The smirk turns into a grin. “Assholes thought it’d be funny to hit the freak, so when they did, I grabbed it and ran like hell.”

A startled laugh leaves Steve’s lips when he pictures Eddie fleeing with a basketball in his arms, flipping off the assholes that he stole it from.

Then he frowns.

“I wasn’t one of them, right?” He doesn’t remember it, but he tries not to think about that time too much.

Eddie’s eyes soften. “No, Stevie. You were never a dick to me, we never really crossed paths.”

“I wish we had,” Steve says. It’s not the first time he’s thought about it. Since meeting Eddie, he often wishes it happened sooner.

“You really think we would’ve been friends? The King and the Freak?”

“We’re friends now,” Steve shrugs.

“After a damn apocalypse! Besides, you’re different now. King Steve wouldn’t be caught dead with me. I was a loser.”

Steve sniggers. “Was?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie squawks, throwing some socks at Steve’s head- and missing.

Steve throws them back, hitting him on the forehead. “You’re supposed to be packing those!”

Eddie sticks his tongue out. “What I meant is- I looked like a loser.”

Steve thinks of the photo he packed earlier while helping pack Wayne’s things- the one of Eddie with a buzz cut, drowning in Wayne’s hand-me-downs, no tattoos or rings. So different from the guy in front of him.

“Now though, I look cool,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows.

“Nah, man. Now you look hot,” Steve blurts out.

He panics when Eddie’s jaw drops and he gapes at Steve, but he doesn’t look upset, just shocked- and a little hopeful.

The door opens then and Robin pops her head in, glaring at the empty boxes. “You dinguses aren’t done yet? We finished packing all of Wayne’s mugs and there’s dozens of them! I’m getting Nance!” She huffs and leaves.

Steve grimaces. “We should get to work before Nancy comes. But, um, wanna ditch the girls after and hang out?”

When Eddie shakes his head, Steve backtracks. “Unless you don’t want-”

Eddie shakes his head even harder at that. “Like fuck if I don’t.” He grins. “Get to work, big boy, then you can tell me how hot you find me and we can kiss about it.”

They finish packing everything in record time after that.

[solarmorrigan]

Well, Hello, Sailor

written for @steddiemicrofic | prompt: ‘pin’ | wc: 388 | rated: T | cw: slightly racy photos?

“Oh my god,” Eddie gasps.

“Oh my god,” Steve echoes, groaning.

Eddie hadn’t meant to drop the box, but it was heavy; it had been a rescue from the back of Steve’s closet as they moved his stuff out of his old apartment (preparing to move into their new one, together), and it had been full of forgotten papers and old magazines and – photos.

The stash had spilled out in front of Eddie like it had been waiting for him, full-color and glossy and glorious.

There’s Steve posed front and center, on his knees and looking back over his shoulder at the camera. He’s wearing a little pair of navy blue shorts and a little red ascot and precious little else. The shorts are indecently high-cut, hugging his ass like they were made for it, but it’s the sailor hat settled jauntily on top of his head that really makes it for Eddie. Steve’s eyes are wide and sweet, as if he’s been caught by surprise, with his lips parted in that inviting way that haunts Eddie’s dreams, even though he can technically see it any time he likes now.

He’s the very picture of a perfect little pin-up boy.

“Oh my god,” Eddie says again, unable to get much else out.

“It was– uh, for a magazine,” Steve stutters out. “I forgot I even had copies of that shoot.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie nods, still staring, mesmerized, at the pictures in his hands.

“It was during college, after my dad cut me off. I needed another job, and this paid, like, surprisingly well, and–”

“It damn well better have,” Eddie says, finally smirking up at Steve. “I bet they made bank off of you, baby.”

Steve pauses, blinking. “You’re not– upset?”

“Why would I be upset?” Eddie asks; honestly, he’ll only be upset if Steve tries to pry the photos away from him before he’s had a chance to thoroughly inspect them.

“Just– some people have gotten… jealous, I guess?” Steve shrugs, glancing away.

“Other people can look if they want.” Eddie leans over to press a reassuring kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I know I’m the only one who gets you live and in person.”

Slowly, Steve smiles. “Well. If you like the sailor shoot, I bet you’ll love some of the others.”

“Others?”

[fuctacles]

wiggly wormy wednesday

Thanks @formosusiniquis for tagging me!!! Here's a thing inspired by that one fanart of Eddie in that one t-shirt that I can't find now

Steve works during the summer as a pool boy. 

It's a good ego boost as he's been in high demand among the housewives in the area. His schedule is full, to the point he has to start declining some offers to have time for himself. When his phone rings with another job offer, he doesn't reject it right away because he's startled to hear a man's voice for a change. Then he hears he'll double the salary and he agrees. 

The address he jotted down leads him to the oldest mansion in town, dark and looming over the neighborhood. He understands the raise in money now and is glad that he told Robin where he'll be. 

The gate is open, so he pushes his way through the artfully neglected garden towards the door, where a note is waiting for him.

You'll find cleaning tools in the shed. Knock on the back door when you're done.

Steve knew of eccentric old people but this one was slowly taking the cake. He rounds the estate to find the pool behind it, and the cake is pulled out of his grip. Who in their right mind paints the pool red? 

By the state it's in, it probably hasn't been used in weeks. The surface is fully covered in leaves and twigs, and the tiles around it are covered in grime. It's a wild 180 after being called to clean pools just so he can hand out sodas and towels to a group of old ladies, but he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work.

Every now and then, he looks up from his work, expecting to find someone ogling him, but he never finds anyone. It's a weird thing to consider a constant of his job, but he came to expect it. Double-checking that he's really alone, he starts humming to himself to make the time go faster. If he's ever called here again, he might take a radio or a walkman with him. 

He's done surprisingly fast, with the sun still high when he goes to knock on the back door. His curiosity is through the roof to see what kind of person his employer is. 

He hears a click by his feet and when he looks down, he realizes the cat door has spat out an envelope. Inside he finds his payment and a note. 

Will double it if you come at 5pm next week

So Steve does, not worried much because the sun is still up, even if it casts ominous shadows around the mansion. 

In one of these dark corners, he spots a lawn chair, the shade doubled with a huge umbrella over it. He wonders if this time, some rich lady is going to join him. Or, the tiny bi-curious bone in his body supplies, the guy who hired him. For the time being, he focuses on his task. 

It's so dark, that he almost misses it. But when he does a double take as he's swiping the poolside, he yells. 

On the chair in the double shade, wearing all black, a huge straw hat, and sunglasses, sits a figure. Steve's eyes are confused as to why they're seeing a black-and-white picture in the middle of his technicolor world. 

The figure raises its hand, making its features more distinguishable. 

"Sorry!" says a voice Steve vaguely recognizes from the phone call. "Don't mind me, just getting my money's worth!" The man grins, sharp and bright, and relaxes against the chair with intent to stay, a glass of wine held in his hand.

Steve considers him for all of two seconds, before grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt. Fuck it. This is what half of the job is about anyway.

The fabric hits the ground, and he gets a surprisingly goofy whoop of approval. 

tagging if u wanna join: @stevesjockstrap @yesdangerpls @stevieharringtonwifeguy @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly @adverbally

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

one chance

111 words | T | for @steddiemicrofic's july challenge "one"

here's the text! without the names/usernames, it's 111 words exactly!

Your Local Freak™ @/edmunsn what i would give for one (1) chance with king steve.. pls.. i promise id blow your muind chris c. @/86theham uhmmm.. chris c. @/86theham eddie, sweetie, this isn’t your priv Your Local Freak™ @/edmunsn can you come over and kill me dead? It’ll only take a sec… ok cool. thanks

Your Local Freak™ @/edmunsn what i would give for one (1) chance with king steve.. pls.. i promise id blow your muind Robert M. Buckley III @/bobin 👀 Robert M. Buckley III @/bobin @/steveharrington Your Local Freak™ @/edmunsn i hate you

Your Local Freak™ @/edmunsn what i would give for one (1) chance with king steve.. pls.. i promise id blow your muind steeb @/steveharrington open my dm munson Your Local Freak™ @/edmunsn no steeb @/steveharrington fine. be there in 5 Your Local Freak™ @/edmunsn ???!!!

Your Local Freak™ @/edmunsn what i would give for one (1) chance with king steve.. pls.. i promise id blow your muind Your Local Freak™ @/edmunsn update:

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A shower of bastards

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, September 2024 edition

Prompt: shower, 399 words

Rated: T

Tags: Meet ugly; Bridal showers; Weddings; Stripper Steve; Partial nudity; Horny disaster Eddie Munson; Platonic Hellcheer

"I don't believe this," Eddie seethes, hammering on the locked bathroom door. "Goddamn strippers at a fucking bridal shower. Hey! I know you're in there! Come out or-”

The door opens. Eddie’s fist hits a very naked, very muscled, very oiled chest.

"Can I help you?"

Eddie’s gaze wanders past sun-bleached chest hair, a throat dotted in moles, a chiseled jawline, up to a smug smile adorning a pair of glossy lips, and holy shit, he’s gay.

“Hi, Gay,” say the lips. “I’m Steve.”

Fuck, he said that out loud.

“Hilarious,” Eddie barks, pushing past The Chest. Steve watches how he kicks the door shut. He’s dressed from the waist down, but the tight denim leaves little to the imagination. “I’m the- … Eddie.”

Steve’s perfect eyebrows disappear under his fringe. “The Eddie?”

Eddie tugs on his own hair. "That's my name, dumbass! Technically, I’m the maid of honor, except I’m a guy-”

“I believe the term is man of honor,” Steve provides. Eddie trails off. Damn, that makes a lot of sense. “You booked me, then? Y'know, it’s universally considered poor taste for a bridal shower. I usually-”

“I didn’t,” Eddie blurts, thinking that he’d book twenty Steves just for himself, if he could. “My best friend's day is ruined because one of her asshole fiancé’s asshole cousins thought this was a funny idea, and I swear if I find out which one of them it was, I’ll-”

“Okay,” Steve says, putting his hands on his hips. His stupidly tight shorts ride down. “Sounds like a lovely family.”

Eddie sighs dejectedly, slumping against the washbasin. “You have no fucking idea, man.”

Steve eyes him while he fumbles for his cigarettes, expression weirdly sympathetic.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

When Eddie blinks at him, he averts his gaze, oddly shy all of a sudden.

“I mean, I’ve been paid for the night, and I have a lot of second-hand experience with wedding drama, so …”

And Eddie has no idea what's gotten into him, but he's exhausted and helpless and angry, and this random guy is willing to listen. The way his chest glistens under the bathroom lights as he accepts one of Eddie’s cigarettes doesn't help, but it doesn't exactly hurt either.

And if he goes home with Steve's card tucked into his wallet? Well, he got one good thing out of this whole mess, at least.

[underburningstars]

one of us is dead 24

(1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30,31)

for @jegulus-microfic prompt spirit, wc 247, emotional manipulation

James knows Regulus knows. He can see the shift in his eyes. His chocolate orbs now seem red with bloodlust. It puts Regulus on edge. James can kill him anytime he wants. But James acts as if nothing has changed at all. 

“Good morning, love,” James kisses his temple and Regulus is left frozen on the bed. James sits across from him and puts the tray with breakfast between them. “I’m thinking we should try going north today. We have yet to check all the rooms there although I’m pretty sure the rooms are shifting on their own.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Regulus says before he can bite his tongue.

James looks up at him slowly. He tilts his head to one side and gives him a once over, like a predator scrutinising its prey. There is a shadow of a smirk at the corner of his mouth that makes Regulus’ blood freeze in his veins. The smirk shifts into a bright beaming smile, “Of course I would. I’ve been living here a long time.”

Regulus swallows harshly and looks down at his plate again. He doesn’t have an appetite but he needs food if he’s going to stand strong against James. He is playing games with Regulus, he knows that. And Regulus doesn’t want to play along, but he also has no idea how to leave James’ playground. All the mind games are breaking his spirit, and perhaps, that’s exactly what James is aiming for. 

[katyawriteswhump]

steddie microfic: guard your heart

For @steddiemicrofic November prompt, Guard, 532 words.

Rating: T  Tags: idiots to lovers. no upside down au. CW: drug use.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Remember Claudette?” Steve passed the beer can to Eddie, who sat beside him on the couch in the trailer. “Started High School with you? Graduated a billion years sooner?”

“You’re hilarious,” Eddie bitched, fixating on Steve’s wet lips.

“We dated last year, and she’s invited me to Indianapolis. I, uh… need a fake ID?”

Eddie discarded the beer, taste souring. Sharing their final can had become a nightly ritual, and now Steve gazed at Eddie with huge, questioning eyes that seemed to scour the depths of Eddie’s soul:

What the fuck do you want me to say, Harrington?

Three weeks ago, Steve arrived picking a fight over Eddie pushing drugs to ‘his’ kids. Eddie truthfully vowed that he didn’t sell to Hellfire Club—or anybody he actually liked—and promptly sold Steve weed. They’d giggled the night away. Next visit, they’d drunkenly kissed. When Wayne got back from night-shift, Eddie reassured him he wasn’t exactly a fan of Steve. Who was asleep in Eddie’s bed.

Naked.

And Eddie didn’t like Steve. Much. Besides, Steve was driving to fucking Indianapolis to have sex with some girl.

When Steve showed up for the fake ID, he sulkily shoved it straight in a pocket. Eddie flipped the bird at the retreating BMW and slunk back inside.

…

Steve had a shitty night.

Claudette basically invited him to make some guy jealous. Or possibly, for her friends to laugh at. Then the bartender noticed Steve’s ID.

Date-of-birth on it wasn’t 1965, as requested. It read… 1945.

The security guard escorted him out. Claudette’s other boyfriend followed for a one-sided brawl before disappearing back into the bar.

Steve sat on the curb, ears buzzing, head throbbing. He’d watched Eddie flip the bird in the rear-view mirror, shoulders hunched, looking as miserable and dejected as Steve had been since they parted.

What the heck was he doing here?

…

At 6am, Steve’s hammering on the door woke Eddie. Steve looked dog-tired, hair feral, and with one screamer of a black eye. Eddie’s heart panged. “What hap—"

“It’ll wait.” Steve waved the ID. “Apparently, I don’t look 41.”

“Christ, Ric’s losing it. I’ll get your ten dollars back.”

Steve shoved by, plonking himself down on the couch. “Don’t want it,” he mumbled, head in hands. “Glad I wasn’t buzzed. I drove all night to get back to you.”

Eddie’s nerves were sure-as-heck buzzing: “Why?”

Steve sighed, peeped up. “Look, I think I only went to make you jealous. I was confused. I’m sorry, but if you don’t want—"

Eddie was besides Steve in a flash, pulling him into his arms. Then they were making out like their lives depended on it.

“Oh, I want.” Eddie took Steve’s bruised face in his hands. “I thought you were fooling around, nothing more. I was… guarding my heart, I guess.” Eddie pulled a dumb face. Steve hitched his lip:

“Me too. Didn’t work, did it?”

“Let’s make this work, huh?” Eddie pressed his brow to Steve’s. Steve hissed. “Sorry. I’ll grab you some ice.”

When Wayne arrived, Steve lay with his head in Eddie’s lap, snoozing lightly. “Not a fan?” asked Wayne.

Eddie smiled, stroking Steve’s soft hair, which felt warm as his heart.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

tags: @wheneverfeasible <3 My fic on A03

[queenie-ofthe-void]

It's A Date

written for @steddiemicrofic October

prompt: dress || wc: 350 || rating: G || tags: excessive fluff and general adorableness

~~~

“Put this on,” Steve says, tossing the black button up at him. He’s been digging through Eddie’s closet for almost ten minutes while Eddie’s struggled to get his favorite black jeans on. It’s the first time he’s worn real clothes since leaving the hospital almost three months ago.

“I don’t want to wear this, Steve.”

“Harrington,” Steve bitches back.

“Ok Harrington,” Eddie says, playful sarcasm dripping into his tone, “why am I wearing this? It’s pretty stuffy for dinner and a movie on the couch.”

“It’s a date, Munson. Dress to impress.” Eddie can’t help but chuckle at the sound of his last name. Steve smiles at him. He throws a red tie around Eddie’s neck before tying a perfect knot. “Are you sure you’re ok getting to the door on your own? Everything’s already set up and he’s gonna be here in five minutes. I could grab your cane and–”

“Yes, I can open the door for my date, I don’t need you to do it.” It’s a joke, but when he looks up, Steve’s face is unsure, lips tilted downward with sad eyes.

“And you’re sure you like the guy?” It’s insecure, vulnerable, and genuine.

“Of course I do,” Eddie smiles. “Yo– he’s perfect.”

Five minutes later, Eddie carefully makes his way through the trailer to open the front door. Standing on the other side is the prettiest boy he’s ever seen, holding a bouquet of daisies and wearing the yellow tie Eddie picked out earlier.

“Hi, Eddie,” the boy’s blushing, nervous with anticipation, until a cocksure smile lights his face. “You look really nice tonight. Love the shirt, good choice.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn as he laughs, raking his eyes over the man he’s been in love with for almost three months. “I was told guys like when I get all gussied up.”

Steve hums, stepping up the stairs to wrap his hands around the back of Eddie’s neck. “That guy sounds pretty smart. Should I be worried about him?”

“No, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles wide, pecking him on the cheek. “you’re the only man I ever wanna date.”

[thefreakandthehair]

gatekeeping.

written for ‘one’ | wc: 111 | rated: general | tags: established/married steddie, future fic, successful corroded coffin, rockstar eddie, charmingly bitchy steve @steddiemicrofic

Eddie knew that it was a matter of time until one of their fans tried to shame the wrong person for the latest social media trend.

He should’ve known it’d be his husband. 

“Nice shirt,” a voice teases behind the camera as Steve turns around. “Name five songs.”

“Bet he can’t even name one.” Another voice mocks. 

“I’ll name five that are about me and you can tell all your friends that my husband thinks you’re dumb as shit.” Steve deadpans.

Eddie snorts as he looks up from his phone at Steve in the kitchen wearing the same special edition shirt he’d worn to the grocery store. 

He’s never been hotter.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Snippet of my next one-shot

Eddie is awoken by a pounding at the door.

"Jesus fuck!"

He can't say he was exactly woken up, it's been hard to sleep since the world ending and the many metaphorical rocks thrown through his window.

He stomps towards the door yet again thankful that Wayne works nights and doesn't have to deal with this bullshit. Eddie is ready to yell at whoever is behind that door it's three in the fucking morning.

He throws open the door and his scream falters when he sets his sights upon what looks like a drunk Steve Harrington.

"Um..."

"Ugh finally," Steve is bitchy.

He pushes past Eddie and stumbles towards Eddie's room, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Eddie's state of shock quickly ends and he runs to his room.

When he opens the door Steve is snuggled into his comforter and fast asleep.

What.

"Steve!" Eddie kind of yells.

Steve's snores halt. He opens one eye and peers at Eddie.

"What's lookin good cookin?"

Then he rolls over and quickly resumes his snoring.

Helpless, Eddie crawls in next to him. He has no choice! He needs to sleep. Where else would he sleep? The couch? Psh no.

This is fine. This is fine. This is fine.

---

Comment if you enjoyed and want to see more!

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Tech Support

I haven't participated in a @steddiemicrofic challenge since February, but I have missed them! Here's the August prompt plug at 437 words with a T rating.

"It's broken," Eddie repeated. "I know you think you're suddenly some kind of tech expert, but my amp won't magically turn on."

Steve sighed. "Dude, I literally sell computers. No expert, but I'm sure I could figure something out with it."

"It's dead as a doorknob," Eddie said. He cocked his head to the side. "Where does that expression come from anyway? Doorknobs were never alive."

"You're getting distracted."

Eddie stuck his tongue out. "Look, it's old. I'm lucky it's lasted this long. I've been slowly saving up because it was only a matter of time."

"Just let me look." Steve let out a long-suffered sigh. "If it is dead, what would it hurt?"

Eddie didn't hesitate at all as he said, "My pride."

Steve snorted. "Is your pride worth the cost of a new amp? And a canceled show tomorrow because you'll never get a new one that fast?"

Eddie shrugged. "Probably not." He slowly stepped aside. "Fine, oh wise tech guy! Fix my amp."

As Steve walked around him, Eddie muttered, "This should be good," but Steve staunchly ignored him. He was used to Eddie's dramatics.

Steve stood over the amp as he considered his options. He didn't know enough about the hardware to try and peel away panels or yank at the internal mechanisms. Eddie had been right that a little basic computer repair didn't come close to understanding how complicated musical equipment worked. Still, the computer had to be the more complex of the two, right? It didn't hurt anything but his own pride if he couldn't figure it out.

That little pep talk handled, Steve knelt next to the amp. He considered it for a moment, studying the knobs on the front before feeling around for any hidden buttons. His fingers wrapped around something at the back, and Steve paused.

He turned back to where Eddie had leaned against the wall for a smoke break. "Solved your problem."

Eddie waved his cigarette before dropping it. "Doesn't look like it's on to me. You didn't fix it just because you declared that you fixed it."

"No," Steve agreed, "but I bet it turns on when I plug this in."

Eddie gaped as he wiggled the cord back and forth. "You're shitting me!"

Steve laughed as he moved through the steps Eddie had forgotten, grinning at the hum of amp and speaker crackling to life together. "Sorry, babe. Sometimes it just takes an expert."

Eddie glared, even as he moved forward to wrap his arms around Steve. "Smart ass." He pressed a quick kiss to Steve's nose, an apology or thanks Steve didn't know.