#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"

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Robin and Eddie were waiting for Steve in his living room. Well, Robin was stretched out on the other couch watching Eddie dig around in the other couch for the remote.

"Buckley, I know you and Stevie are strictly platonic, but how close are you that you just leave your underwear tucked into his couch?" Eddie asked, standing up and holding said underwear up.

"Does that look like something that I wear? It's frilly, pink, and satin-y," Robin said. "Plus, my ass would not be able to fit in those. . .too loose. But, I think I do know who they belong to."

"Who?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, hey!" Steve exclaimed cheerfully. "There's my underwear! I was folding laundry earlier, and I couldn't find them anywhere. I also have a matching bra."

"You wear women's underwear?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, it feels great," Steve said. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

Eddie suddenly had an image in his head of Steve wearing nothing but the pink underwear and bra. . .spread out in Eddie's bed. He collapsed onto the couch, his knees buckling. He pulled the pillow over his lap.

"It's not exactly the word I'd use," Eddie said.

"Eddie?"

"I think that's my que to leave," Robin said and walked out the door.

"Eddie?! Eddie! . . . Your face is totally blank. It's freaking me out. Shit, have you been cursed? Goddamnit! Okay, I have to find that Puppets of Masters tape! Hold on, Eddie!"

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Baby's first blowjob

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, December 2024 edition

Prompt: time, 485 words

Rated: E

Tags: Blowjobs; First times; Cock piercings; Confident Eddie; Confident Steve; Steve is a natural at cock sucking and Eddie’s ghast is flabbered

Notes: Based on this artwork by @firefly-party and the conversation we had in the comments of the uncropped version on ao3. (Go ahead, look at it! Just ... maybe not at work y'know? 🫠)

They stumble into the bedroom, Steve’s tongue licking past Eddie’s lips and over the roof of his mouth. When Eddie breaks the kiss to pull off both their shirts, Steve whines.

“You done this before, honey?” Eddie asks, sinking down onto the bed.

Steve shrugs off his pants, crawling on top of him, warm and eager and naked. His fingers reach for the fly of Eddie’s pants, but he catches his hands to still them.

“Stevie? Answer me?”

Steve pouts.

“With girls,” he admits. “They love it when I eat them out, but I've never-..."

“Never sucked a cock?”

Steve blushes. Eddie wants to eat him alive.

“That's okay,” he mutters, pulling himself out. Steve’s eyes grow large as he takes in the size of him, the row of barbell piercings lining the underside of his cock. “You'll get the hang of it. Just take it-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, because Steve makes a greedy, punched out sound and surges right in.

Eddie is no blushing virgin. He's had his fair share of hook-ups. Rushed, sloppy blowjobs in the backrooms of bars. Messy, rough sex in grimy bathrooms after gigs. Hell, he once fucked a guy in a tiny utility closet and got bleach stains all over his new leather pants. It was good, quick fun.

Steve though?

There’s nothing rushed about what Steve does, nothing rough or hurried. Nothing awkward or shy either.

Instead, he wraps a firm hand around Eddie’s base, licking along the upper side of his cock in one long, thorough drag. He swirls his tongue around the tip and moans, and the sound vibrates all the way into Eddie’s bloodstream, settling in his abdomen in a hot coil of need. His hips buck.

Steve, the smug fucker, laughs - a hot puff of air against Eddie’s flushed tip - and then he flicks his tongue over the barbells.

“Shit,” Eddie gasps. “Slow down, I'm gonna-”

Steve looks up. Then, not once breaking eye contact, he swallows Eddie’s cock all the way down to the base.

By the time Eddie stops seeing stars, Steve is propped up on one elbow beside him, wiping a stray drop of come from his lips and looking down at him with large, eager eyes.

“Well? How did I do?”

“Jesus fucking-" Eddie wheezes, once he remembers what words are. There's tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. “That- … Wow. I've never-”

He isn't sure what he was trying to say. Never come so hard? Never felt this way? Never had my cock worshipped like this, and can we do it again?

He also never finds out, because Steve’s eyes grow large and his face switches from smug satisfaction to shocked surprise.

“Never? What- … Wait, was this your first time?”

Eddie loses the ability to speak all over again, only this time, it's because he laughs until he starts crying.

[paceprompting]

a ballad in translation

written for ‘sing’ | wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: 90s era steddie, established relationship, singer eddie, deaf steve, domestic fluff

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Eddie didn’t get home until late.

It was his own fault. They actually finished recording early, and rest of the band headed out with their unusual gift of free time. But Eddie, since they’d paid for the time anyway, stayed behind to work out some of the kinks in a song he’d been working on in secret.

Melodies and lyrics were easy enough to do in his head and on paper, but when he pulled out his sweetheart, someone always wanted to listen. Steve, especially, liked to sit close to one of the speakers, and feel the vibrations along with the little bit of sound he could still hear. Liked to watch Eddie’s fingers dance across the strings and the frets.

The studio had been the best place to finally lay down what had only been in his head. Hear it out loud and figure out the parts that needed a better transition, or where he might fit in an echo of the main melody somewhere in the bridge.

By the time he finally finished, an hour past their original reservation, the song wasn’t done yet—but it was getting there.

Eddie flicked the lights twice as he walked into the kitchen, offering an apologetic smile when Steve turned from the sink.

Steve set his hands on his hips, frowning.

Eddie raised his hands to his chest, signing meekly, ‘Hey, Stevie.’

In response, Steve tapped his fingers on his sides.

‘I ordered Chinese. Extra spring rolls. Should be here in,’ Eddie checked his watch. ‘Ten minutes?’

Steve stepped forward, eyes narrowed as he considered Eddie’s bribery.

‘Recording go long?’

Eddie bit at his lower lip. Steve raised his brow.

‘Sort of?’ he answered. Steve cleared his throat, clearly wanting more details. Eddie flexed his fingers, and said, ‘I was working on something. Just me losing track of time.’

Something other than the kitchen lights sparkled in Steve’s eyes. For all that Steve had bemoaned Eddie’s taste in music—both listening and creating—he jumped at every opportunity to be the first to know about anything and everything Corroded Coffin put to track.

‘New song?’ he asked, a true smile forming on his lips.

Eddie rolled his eyes, knowing he was caught. ‘Yes, you dork.’

He’d somehow managed to keep it a secret from the man he lived with for about three months. Cat had to come out of the bag sometime.

‘Can I listen?’ Steve had crossed the room into Eddie’s space, his hands signing frantically.

Eddie danced away, playfully narrowing his eyes as he signed back, ‘Not finished yet.’

Steve reached out for him, curving an arm around Eddie’s waist and pulling him back against his chest. He swept Eddie’s hair out of the way and tucked his nose against Eddie’s throat, dragging up until his lips grazed the shell of his ear.

“Please, Eds?” Steve whispered.

Over the years, they fallen more and more into signing. At first, just so they could both learn ASL as quickly as possible by making it their primary form of conversation. The only times Steve did speak out loud was when Eddie walked off while in the middle of signing, forgetting that Steve had to see to understand him, and then Steve had to call out for Eddie to come back and repeat himself.

And, of course, when he really wanted to get his way.

Steve learned quickly, way back when, that Eddie’s weakness was the low timbre of Steve’s voice and his wide palms over the span of Eddie’s ribs. Even if Eddie wasn’t already up for most anything Steve could come up with, it wasn’t hard to convince him when Steve was involved.

Steve had…not taken it well when the doctors told him he was starting to lose his hearing. Between all the concussions and the still-unknown extent of the symptoms from dealing so closely with the Upside Down, the doctors had acted like Steve was getting off easy compared to the recovery from the demobat scars.

But when they’d finally started to think maybe the bullshit was over and done with—all those years from ‘83 into ‘87 had come back once again with a vengeance.

Most days were better now.

Steve still hated wearing the hearing aids. He also hated not wearing them, especially when everybody was over and he struggled to be part of the conversation, as much as Eddie could keep up with his signing. But not everyone had the everyday practice, as much as they all tried with ASL.

Although, they both enjoyed this particular activity that had come from Steve losing his hearing.

It wasn’t all gone. If Steve sat close enough to speakers with his hands and head pressed against them, he could heart the drums and the bass, and sometimes the vibrations of the vocals.

Steve could hear Eddie sing, if he laid his head against Eddie’s chest.

Eddie turned his head toward Steve, nodding.

They moved together into the living room, Steve only releasing his hold so that Eddie could sit first on the couch. He joined beside him, ducking under Eddie’s arm as he laid it across the back of the cushions and settled with one hand on Eddie’s thigh and his head laid near his collarbone.

He traced an ‘ok’ into Eddie’s leg when he was ready.

Eddie took a slow breath and began to sing.

It was more of a ballad than anything else he’d ever written. Not too slow, but focused on the guitar going along with the vocal melody, rather than a chaos of drums and quick series of chords.

He didn’t have all the words yet. Some completed lines about getting through by following these deep brown eyes through hell and back. What he didn’t have figured out, he hummed the melody for.

The entire song was in his deepest register and a low key.

So, even without his hearing aids, Steve would be able to hear or feel every word, every note.

After all, it was for him.

[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!

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

‘Wrapped’ Around My Finger

“Good evening everyone! I’m your host Ann Romano joined tonight by two of the biggest names in music….please give it up for Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson and Grammy winner Steve Harrington!”

The crowd goes wild.

This is a big deal, two of the biggest names in history with a giant rivalry.

Everyone knew the story. They grew up in a small town together and were on different levels of popularity ultimately ruining what could’ve been a fantastic friendship. Even now ten years since high school they can’t get over it. They hate each other always trying to one up each other.

Eddie trying to make a point that even the freaks can become famous. Stating, “I didn’t need money like Steve Harrington to win a Grammy I have my talent to thank for that.”

The two walk out onto the stage and sit on the couch making sure to leave some distance between them.

“Thank you both for coming out tonight! I know it’s a big trip from LA to New York. It probably helps that you live here huh Steve?”

“Actually I moved to LA.”

Eddie turns to look at him shocked.

“You moved? When did you move? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would it have mattered? It’s not like we see each other anyway. You can barely look at me and you’re sitting two inches from me.”

Eddie huffs in his seat and turns towards Ann, trying to remember what little of his media training he had.

“I only care because I’m a good neighborly fellow of course.”

Ann laughs flicks her hand at him.

“Oh you guys are just too funny. I knew you secretly cared for each other which brings me to my next segment, a game I like to call, “Wrapped Up!” You see gentleman, both of your agents gave me access to your Spotify wrapped and now we’re gonna let the audience in as well!”

The two turn white.

“Is that necessary?” Eddie asks through gritted teeth.

“Why not?” Steve adds in. “I have nothing to hide.” He narrows his eyes at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes at him.

Ann laughs nervously. “Fantastic! Let’s jump to it!”

She gestures behind her where a giant screen shows Steve’s wrapped.

“Alight fellas, Eddie gets three points for every artist he guesses on the first try. He gets three tries, one point if he gets the artist by the third try.”

“Easy.” Eddie smirks.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You always were easy.”

“Alright guys let’s focus on the game here!” Ann jumps in.

“Alright number 5….Wham.”

*a bell rings*

“Fantastic start Eddie!”

“What’d I say, easy,” he smirks.

“4. Tears for Fears.”

“3. ABBA.”

“2. Queen.”

“1. Toto.”

*incorrect buzzer sound*

“Ok…Madonna.”

*incorrect*

“Alright Eddie this is your last chance. You’ve done fantastic so far so I think you’re going to win no matter what. Sorry Steve.” Ann says.

“Hey none taken. I definitely didn’t even think he’d do this well.” Steve smirks at him.

“Alright big boy hold onto your pants. I got this.”

Eddie takes a deep inhale.

“Brittney Spears!”

*louder more incorrect buzzer*

“Ugh!”

“Sorry Eddie! But I don’t think even you could’ve guessed this one. Are you ready folks let’s see what it is-”

The crowd goes wild.

Steve’s smirks goes crazy.

Eddie is pale.

Up on the screen in big obnoxious letters is “CORRODED COFFIN”

“That’s right folks! Since Eddie did so well let’s let him play a similar game for Steve’s top songs. Are you ready Eddie!”

Eddie is not breathing.

“Um-”

“Great let’s start!”

“5….Girls just wanna have fun?”

*DING*

“4.Dancing Queen”

*incorrect buzzer*

“Material Girl”

*incorrect buzzer*

Eddie sighs.

“Crown of Thorns.”

*DING*

“That’s right Eddie! Your very own song Crown of Thorns was his number 4? Wanna take a guess at the rest?”

Eddie grits his teeth. “I’m not sure I have a choice.”

“Haha of course you don’t! Now! Number three!”

“3. Heavy is the Head.”

“2. Reign.”

“1….”

He looks nervous.

“Kneel Before the King.”

*DING*

“You got them! Fantastic work Eddie! Were you surprised that four of his five were songs written by you? How could you possibly guess them?”

“At first I was surprised…you know we have this rivalry thing going on but…I’ve been watching Steve since I was fourteen. I know him well. As soon as I saw his top artist I knew his top songs would be the ones I wrote about him.”

The crowd gasps.

“Don’t get me wrong I wrote a lot more about him but these in particular…”

“They’re about forbidden love.” Steve chimes in. His eyes are watering.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why they were my favorite.”

Eddie gives him a sad smile.

“You wrote them about me?”

Eddies smile turns into a frown. “About you, for you, it was always for you, all of them.”

“All of them?”

“Everything. My entire discography. Every performance. Every press tour. Every photo shoot. You just had to worm your way into my life Harrington…my heart.” He whispers that last part but they’re so close together Steve can hear it.

Well barely hear it…his heartbeat is so loud in his ears.

“Anyways Ann what’s next.”

Ann is staring at him in open mouthed shock.

“Wow. This so perfect.” She turns to Steve. “Ready for your turn?”

“Nah.” Eddie says. “Skip to my number one artist.”

Behind them a video starts playing on the screen.

“Hey it’s Steve! Thanks so much for being my number one fan! I mean top .01 percent is a tough spot to get! It means so much to me that I’m your number one artist-”

Steve can’t take his eyes off of Eddie, when could he ever?

“I’m your number one artist?” he asks so softly Eddie can barely hear it.

“Of course…I like the sound of your voice.” He shrugs his shoulder like it’s no big deal.

“Can we talk? I mean after the show?”

Eddie smiles at him.

“Of course Stevie, I’d like that.”

“I would also like to know!” Ann cuts in.

They forgot this was being streamed to millions of people and filmed in front of a live studio audience.

—————

Later Backstage:

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE MY NEW NEIGHBOR HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS!!!????”

“Honestly Eddie I don’t know. For someone who claims to be obsessed with me-”

“I didn’t-“”

“Obsessed.” Steve puts a finger to Eddie’s lips to shut him up. “You didn’t notice I’d moved in next door.”

“Hell just move in with me.”

“…alright.”

[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?”

[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. 

[scoops-aboy86]

So Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

Prompt: Time (@steddiemicrofic) | wc: 485 | Rating: T | CW: none | Additional Tags: Steve’s parents are nowhere to be seen, Uncle Wayne works on Christmas, gay Eddie Munson, bisexual Steve Harrington

“Soooo,” Eddie drags out, still not sure what he’s doing in Steve’s living room. Sharing this uncomfortable designer couch and cold bottles of expensive beer. On Christmas Eve, with a big ol’ fire roaring merrily away and no one else as a buffer because they’re the only ones they know without plans tonight. 

They’ve already exhausted what little they have in common to talk about. Eddie isn’t sure, but this is probably the sort of time when straight buddies talk about girls. 

“How are things with Nancy?” he tries, ignoring the usual twinge of jealousy. 

Steve sighs, settling his beer on one knee. “I’m gonna stop you right there, dude.”

Oh. Well. Eddie fiddles with his own bottle and tries to cover his awkwardness with a sip. 

“Nancy and I broke up because she called me and our relationship bullshit,” Steve continues bluntly, nearly causing Eddie to choke on his beer. “Yeah she was drunk, but afterwards she couldn’t even say she loved me. Then she slept with Jonathan before we officially broke up. We’re friends now, but she broke my fucking heart. No way I’m going back down that road.”

“Oh,” Eddie says in a strangled voice. 

“Sorry,” Steve adds with an apologetic shrug as he slouches back into the cushions. “It’s just, Dustin is always on me like a dog with a bone about Robin and that’s bad enough. I really don’t need that about Nance, too.”

“I get it,” Eddie mumbles. He doesn’t—hasn’t dated at all because it’s Hawkins—but he can imagine. “Consider the subject dropped.”

Picking at the label on his beer again, Eddie feels both indignant on Steve’s behalf and chastised for poking at a sore spot he hadn’t realized was there. 

To his surprise, Steve chuckles. “You don’t have to totally drop it. There’s… someone. I just figured it’d save some time if you know it’s not my ex.”

Great, another girl to be pointlessly jealous of. But Eddie wants to be a good friend, so he schools his expression into something neutral. “Cool. So how’s that going?”

“Could be better. I invited them over for Christmas Eve—���

Eddie sits bolt upright. “But that’s today,” he blurts dumbly. Then, with disbelief, “She didn’t show and you settled for calling me?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. No, he’s just taking a godawful long time to take the hint.”

Again, straight to the point. 

“I thought it was so neither of us had to be alone on Christmas Eve,” Eddie replies weakly. This time he gets an eye roll. “… Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Steve sits up, sets his beer aside, scoots closer until their thighs touch. “I like you, Eds. And you’re into me, right?”

Eddie’s face is on fire, but he opts to follow Steve’s lead and be blunt. “… Yes.”

And come Christmas Day, when Wayne wakes up from his long post-shift nap, Eddie introduces him to his first boyfriend. 

Permanent tag list (ask to be added/removed):

@hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @hickeysgodcomplex @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[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

[fuctacles]

Treasured

For @steddiemicrofic prompt "new", @stmonstercalendar and @steddiebingo "dragon" (i swear i didn't plan it) G | 517 | Steddie | no cw | magic Eddie, old dragon blood Eddie. canon compliant, pre-relationship | Ao3

Eddie has been herding his sheep as long as he could remember. It's part of his instinct to seek out freaks like him, and a power trip to spread his protection over them. Maybe he can't do much. Maybe he's just another senior student. But when his gut tells him it wants someone, he follows. 

He's not prepared for it to want Steve Harrington. 

He's not like any other of his herd. At least at first. But the more he talks to him, the more he smiles and jokes and tries to prove his gut wrong, the more it turns against him. 

Because Steve is an outcast, is a fucking weirdo, though of a different kind, and Eddie, begrudgingly, feels him being pulled into his imaginary hoard. The new ones always feel the most precious, the most coveted, so he immediately notices when something is wrong. 

In the ancient times, it was an alarm that someone was rounding on your treasure, ready to steal. Now, for Eddie, it's a sign to grab his first aid kit and go to the rescue. 

His sixth sense leads him to the Harrington house, and he hesitates. Steve can surely deal with this himself, if he's at home. Eddie's more used to cleaning split lips or looking for stolen notebooks in the halls of Hawkins High. 

But things can happen at home, so with a sigh, he walks up to the door and rings the doorbell. 

It takes a while before Steve opens up, green hoodie pulled low over his face. 

"Munson?" His mouth turns in a confused frown, eyes hidden from the sunlight. Eddie pushes inside, and closes the door.

"You alright, Steve-o?" he asks, looking him over. No bruises, blood, or split lips were in sight, but the guy still looked miserable. 

"Got a nasty bruise on my knee, probably, and a migraine coming up. I've had worse," he shrugs. 

"Can I help?" Eddie asks, already steering him towards the kitchen. He wouldn't be able to rest with the alarm bells ringing in his head anyway.

"I was cooking pasta, but I don't feel like eating anymore," Steve explains the disarray they find the room in. A jar of sauce is waiting on the counter, the cheese is shredded, and the water is steaming, although the fire is off. 

"I'll finish it up, and you'll eat a little bit," Eddie decides, pushing him gently into a chair. With a flick of his wrist, he turns the stove back on, but Steve doesn't notice. "Do you have any painkillers?"

Steve helps him navigate the space, and Eddie gets him fed, hydrated and medicated, before ushering him to bed. 

"Should I stay?" he asks, the idea of leaving Steve alone with his migraine not sitting right with him. 

"Oh yeah, there's enough room," Steve pats the empty side of the bed. 

"I didn't—" But his inner dragon purrs at the idea of curling around his newest treasure, like the good old times, still remembered in his core. 

He draws the curtains like it's a cave, and settles against his golden boy. 

Tags: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Passion and Strength

Written for the February 2025 round of the @steddiemicrofic challenge

Prompt: rose, 367 words

Rated: T

Tags: Canon-divergence; Post s4; Tattoo artist Eddie; First meeting; Scars

Eddie's first thought is that an angel just walked through his door. The guy looks ethereal - all soft fabrics and bright colors against the black and red of Eddie’s tattoo shop.

“Coffee shops's next door,” Eddie says, then winces. Way to look like an asshole.

“Huh?” Large, hazel eyes blink at him. “Oh no, I'm Steve. I called earlier?”

“Oh?” Eddie says intelligently. “Oh, yeah. About the cover-up?”

“Exactly,” Steve nods. “I- ... Look, I'll be honest, I've never gotten a tattoo, but I'm tired of looking at those scars, and I thought- … I'm not even sure you can work with them, they're pretty nasty.”

“I can work with anything,” Eddie claims. It's a bold statement, but Steve’s face lights up with hope. “Show me?”

“What, right now?” Steve says. “Um … okay.”

And then he strips out of his sweater.

Eddie catches a glimpse of a toned chest and bites his tongue. He's a professional. He can't afford to do stupid things like ogle customers or run his fingers through their chest hair to see if it's as soft as it looks.

Then, Steve turns.

“Shit, what happened to you?”

Steve shrugs. The gnarly scar tissue covering his shoulder blades moves with it.

“I was in an earthquake. You know Hawkins?”

Eddie nods. Of course he does. Everyone in the Midwest knows.

“Would have to be one massive tattoo,” he mutters, and this time, he does reach out and touch. “You got any ideas?”

“A baseball bat with nails over my spine.” If Steve catches Eddie’s bewildered look, he ignores it. “And some sort of flowers around it? To symbolize life and growth?”

“Roses,” Eddie mutters. He can see them before his mind's eye, vibrant and beautiful like the man who'll carry them. “For passion and strength.”

Steve turns, and he withdraws his hand.

“Perfect. When can we get started?”

Eddie barks a laugh. “Easy, big boy. I'll need to design something first, and you'll wanna sleep on it. It'll take a long time, and it'll be painful.”

“That's okay,” Steve says. “I like pain.”

Eddie thinks that his professionalism is hanging by a thin thread.

He still tells Steve to come back tomorrow.

Something something, Eddie grew up outside of Hawkins, the UD shit still happened, Steve commissions him to cover up his scars.