#steddiemicrofic January

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Be my escape

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, January 2024 edition

Prompt: hole, 404 words

Rated: M

Tags: Fantasy AU, Magic AU, Guard!Steve, Thief!Eddie, Imprisonment, Claustrophobia, Eddie Munson whump, Referenced sex

Notes: Set in the same universe as this one.

People call it the Hole.

That's not its actual name, of course. Steve thinks it fits, though.

He still remembers his last visit. He was just a boy, but his father - newly appointed Captain of the Royal Guard - insisted he come.

The journey was long and tedious, giant waves battering at their boat. When they reached the steel platform far off the coast, he was freezing and nauseous. And then came the descent.

He recalls the warden's boasts as the cage slid into the depths. The magic crystals keeping the structure deep under the ocean from caving in on itself. The intricate enchantments sealing away the inmates’ magic.

What he recalls even better is the moisture and the despair hanging in the stale air. The mounting pressure inside his skull the further down they went.

Today, he's Captain of the Guard himself, but the dread crawling up his spine as he glides downwards is still the same.

The name fits perfectly. This place is a hole. A hole under the sea where families like the Harringtons and the Carvers throw their enemies to rot.

Enemies like Eddie Munson.

As he stalks down the corridors, he wonders what he's doing. He should be glad Eddie got caught. The man is a criminal. A thief. The insufferable bane of his existence.

Didn't find him so insufferable the other night, a voice at the back of his mind gloats. Nor the way his body fit against yours, or the way his mouth felt on your-

He tells it to shut up. He doesn’t have time for this.

The inside of the cell is dark. A figure stirs upright on the metal cot against the wall.

“Finally,” croaks a voice. “Are you the manager of this fine establishment? I have a complaint. The room service sucks and I think there's rats in-"

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Steve sets down his lantern and drops to his knees. “Shut up, will you?”

Silence.

Then …

“Stevie?”

A whisper, a plea.

“Told you not to call me that,” he huffs, already unlocking the shackles around too-skinny wrists. The second they fall away, there's hands in his hair, tracing the shape of his face.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “Why- Are you a dream?”

Steve snorts, pulls them both to their feet.

“Sure hope not. Imagine that'd make it difficult to bust you outta here. C'mon, we have no time to lose.”

⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️⚔️✨️

Part 3

So I texted @house-of-the-moving-image if I should write more Phantom Thief for this prompt, and they were like "funny you should ask, I just had this idea about a magic high-security prison called The Hole". 🤣

We've got the next bit all figured out already, but this was all I could fit into 404 words.

[stevesjockstrap]

Digging Holes

@steddiemicrofic prompt ‘hole’ | 404 words | rated G

cw: implied past child abuse • read on ao3

Steve watched the kids playing in their backyard, digging happily in the sandbox Uncle Wayne had made for them. The neighbor boy had come over, and his girls sometimes needed to set some boundaries with him but otherwise everything usually went well.

He brought them juice boxes or granola bars from time to time but tried his best to let them play uninterrupted. Eddie always claimed he was a helicopter parent, but he felt he was more than entitled to a little paranoia.

Smirking as his youngest again reminded the neighbor to not fling sand around, he watched as she looked around the backyard for him. Once she knew he was just on the patio, she went back to playing. That was something else he enjoyed, that his girls knew to keep an eye out.

Eddie snuck out of the house and slid in beside him.

“How are you going to helicopter from all the way over here, babe?” He teased, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I am not helicoptering. How are you going to rile them up from all the way over here?”

Things seemed to get tense all at once, both of his girls’ heads popping up to locate their dads.

“We reached the bottom of the sandbox! How are we going to dig a hole to China?!” The neighbor kid yelled louder so the adults could now hear him.

Suddenly Steve was back at recess as a small kid, watching a classmate with shorn dark hair and a black eye explain that he was digging a hole to China with his spork from the cafeteria. He had taken one long look at the kid and grabbed a nearby stick to help him.

“Woah,” Steve whispered, shaking himself out of the thirty year old memory he had completely forgotten about (suffering several head injuries since then).

“What?” Eddie looked at him strangely.

“I dunno. I just remembered, I think. Helping you in, like, elementary school, maybe the same age as they are… dig a hole to China? You were using a spork?”

“Oh my god,” he breathed, eyes taking on a faraway look. “That was you?”

Steve nodded.

“Everyone always thought it was really weird. You were the only one who helped. I, uh, really wanted to get away. That was before, um, before I went to Wayne’s.”

He squeezed his hand on his knee. “I’m glad I helped.”

“Me too.”

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

January prompt: new

Word count: 517

No warnings apply

Rated G

@steddiemicrofic

No one is allowed into the Munson’s new apartment.

If this was pre-Vecna, no one would have wanted to; after all, the Party—sans Max—hardly even knew where he lived in the trailer park. They saw each other on school days, with Wednesdays and sometimes Fridays for Hellfire Club, but the rest of the time they stayed separate.

But staying separate doesn’t happen after Vecna. After any run-in with the Upside Down.

But Eddie’s staying separate.

Everyone knows where the Munsons are staying now. That had never been a secret. But every time one of the kids shows up, Wayne turns them away, polite but firm.

Or, if he’s gone at work, they’d knock until they got bored. No one ever answered the door.

Steve’s been having dreams. In them, he’s stuck against a wall, or a bed, or against someone’s chest. There are claws digging into his own chest, his hips, his back, but they never puncture, never draw blood; they’re careful. Something about the way the dreams feel make Steve feel safe, even with the creature.

Because it is a creature; Steve can never see it fully, but he sees backwards-facing knees, claws, and wings. He might’ve just scraped by in biology, but he knows humans don’t usually have those features.

It all comes to a head one night when Steve falls asleep and dreams again. The creature is snuffling into Steve’s neck where he’s pressed against the wall again. He doesn’t recognize the room, wouldn’t know it’s a living room if it wasn’t for the couch.

The creature breathes in, taking in Steve’s scent, and begins pressing gentle kisses to the base of Steve’s neck and throat.

Steve’s not scared. This creature isn’t something to be afraid of; it’s something to be revered, treasured.

He tilts his head back best he can, lets the creature work. Feels his breath hitch at a deeper kiss, just the hint of teeth. He exhales on a breathy moan, and it snaps something in the creature.

It slots a leg between Steve’s, extends its wings around him—protecting him, sheltering him, Steve realizes—and begins sucking a hickey into Steve’s neck.

Steve can’t help but shift down, rub his aching cock against the creature’s thigh. He tries to move away from the wall, get his cock into the crease of the creature’s hip, but the creature keeps him in place.

It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Suddenly they’re in bed, and the creature is atop him, rutting down into him. Steve’s humping up into the creature, meeting every thrust, and he knows he’s not going to last long.

He wakes with Eddie’s name on his lips.

He jumps out of bed, throws a shirt and some flip-flops on, uncaring for how he looks. He runs out the door, drives to the Munsons’ new apartment, bangs on the door.

Wayne answers. “Boy, ‘s the middle of the night.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve tells him. “But please- please. I need to see him.” He peeks around Wayne. Freezes at the sight of the living room.

It’s the exact same as his dream.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemicrofic July Prompt: One

Word Count: 111 | Rated: T for discussion about stealing a car (PSA don't commit grand theft auto, folks – leave it to your blorbos hehe)

‘Joyride’

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Stevie?”

Steve merely hums, continuing to look out over the trailer park from their spot on the old couch on the porch. Eddie shuffles closer and bumps Steve’s shoulder for an answer.

“I wanna steal a car,” Steve sighs.

“What?”

Steve shrugs, mumbling, “At least that part was fun.”

“Stevie, we can’t – ”

“Come on,” Steve whines, gesturing to a red pickup across the park, “What about that one? Just this one time – for a joyride. Please?”

Eddie captures Steve’s pointing digit in his hand, brings it to his mouth, and kisses the tip.

“Fine,” he feigns a relenting tone despite his grin, “One more time.”

[wormdebut]

STEDDIE MICROFIC JANUARY — NEW YEARS REVELATIONS

@steddiemicrofic | Word: New | Word Count: 517 | Rated: T | CW: Steve is a pining mess

——

“Has it ever crossed your mind, that you might just—like him?”

Steve couldn’t hide the cringe. His shoulders twitched—

“Ew, Robin.”

“Don’t Ew, me, Harrington. I don’t mean to burst your weird little bubble here but every day you complain about Eddie Munson is another day I have to watch you, pining after him.” Robin Buckley is tired.

Robin Buckley is insane.

“Ew, Robin!” Steve yelps. Tossing the blanket off his bed to slap at her shoulders. Fuck this shit.

“I’m serious, Steve. I think it’s time that maybe—perhaps—you consider—that maybe you’re into men.”

Steve can’t help but scoff. “Well, no shit Rob. Of course I’m into men. That’s not fucking new. It’s not men that are the problem—it’s him.”

Robin’s eyes go wide. “Well, shit, Steve. This revelation is pretty damn new to me!”

Steve tries to stop his eyes rolling to the back of his head—he really does.

“Oh come on, Robbie. I’m me. Is this ‘revelation’ really all that shocking.”

“I—“ Robin sighs. “Yeah, well. It always kinda has made sense hasn’t it?” She can’t help but laugh. “But why is Ed—“

Steve cuts her off. “Don’t.”

She laughs again, “Oh, come on, Steven. You just came out to me at ten at night on a Tuesday in January. God forbid I say Eddie Munson’s name.”

“Ew, Robin!” Steve couldn’t handle this. Really he couldn’t.

Her laughing was getting out of control now.

“Oh my god! Your blushing! This is even crazier than the fucking demogorgons!”

“Robin!”

——

It doesn’t go away.

His stupid feelings for stupid—him—don’t go away and it’s getting harder to hide.

Steve’s watching Eddie prep for a show.

A rock show.

The world can end several times, that’s not shocking. No.

But Eddie Munson and his stupid band getting weird underground street cred because he is some sort of hellspawn, devil child that survived the earthquake of ‘86?

That’s shocking.

And it’s hot as hell.

This is not good. This is awful . Eddie Munson is terrible for Steve’s health.

Fuck it. It’s a new year and he had survived the world nearly ending several times.

So he had a raging boner for Eddie Munson.

Whatever.

——

Steve was dazed. Turns out the underground hellspawn music circuit knew their shit.

Corroded Coffin was incredible.

Eddie Munson was hot.

And Steve Harrington was absolutely fucked.

“As I live and breathe, Stevie baby! You came to see me.” Eddie popped up out of nowhere, sweaty, eyes wide, clearly buzzing with adrenaline—and sweaty.

Steve swallows. Is it hot in here? “Uh—yeah. You were hot—I mean, the band was hot—great—good. You guys were good.” What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Get a grip.

Eddie smirks—and Steve is fine, thank you.

“Ohoho—Do you think I’m pretty, Stevie?” Eddie winks, and he’s so close and so sweaty and—you know what?

Yeah—Fuck yeah.

“And if I did?” Steve asks, chill, suave, cool as a cucumber—his hands are not shaking. He’s totally fine.

Eddie’s smirk softens—just a little— “Then I’d say you and I should get out here, no?”

Steve nods. Fuck it. He’s trying something new.

[runninriot]

To Love And Be Loved

written for @steddiemicrofic

january prompt: new | wc: 517 | rated M | tags: sexual content, newly established relationship, boys in love

   "I love you," Eddie says so easily and unashamed. And it's new to Steve, this outspoken form of devotion.

   "I want you," he whispers against Steve's lips, emphasising his words with a kiss that feels like he means it.

So honest, and unafraid, and real.

Eddie's love is loud; he carries his feelings on the tip of his tongue, lets them spill whenever they want to break free, doesn't care who hears, or sees, or minds.

This love is different from every other love Steve had ever known before Eddie came into his life, not with a bang but quietly. Slowly sneaking his way into Steve's heart and inevitably- into his bed.

He doesn't even know when it happened. One day they were only friends and the next they woke up in each others arms, two sets of eyes sharing unspoken secrets before their lips confessed what their hearts had already known.

And just like that, Steve wasn't just Steve anymore. Became Eddie's boyfriend, and honey, and baby – all those silly-sweet names Eddie likes to call him, which Steve gladly returns because he likes how Eddie smiles with his eyes when he calls him my love.

It's amazing, this feeling. New and exciting although sometimes confusing because Steve had to learn that with Eddie, there is never too much, or not good enough.

With him it is always everything and everything perfect, and Steve believes when Eddie says that he's the best thing that ever happened to him. Because he feels it all the same, knows that as long as he's got Eddie, he'll never be out of luck.

And while he doesn't quite know how he deserves all this happiness, he sure as hell won't question it. But instead cherishes it, and worships it, and holds on to it for as long as he can.

Loving Eddie is like loving the moon in all her glorious phases – always moving, always changing. Makes it hard to keep up sometimes, chasing new highs every day. But Eddie's love keeps him grounded even when his head is lost in the clouds. Keeps him safe and protected and cared for, always.

   "Who do you belong to? Say it, baby," Eddie demands, each word another thrust pushing him further into his core.

   "You. Oh-nly you.”

It's hard to speak, harder to focus when he's bursting with love, so full of Eddie.

Eddie, whose love is possessive and greedy and all-consuming. Leaves Steve trembling and panting when he fucks him so deep, so good, with fervid passion. With hands that know exactly how to touch him and a clever mouth that knows all these tricks to make him come undone. With a body that was made to fit Steve's like they are two parts of a whole.

Eddie, whose love is soft and hard, and goes bone-deep. Leaves an imprint on Steve’s body and mind each time they crash and fall together.

And Steve will never get tired of it, no matter how much Eddie tires him out when they explore all these new ways to love and be loved.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo and @steddiemicrofic.

Mordor It Was

Steddie Microfic January Prompt: New || Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 517 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Post-Bat Attack | POV: Eddie | Tags: S4 Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Will Make Sure Of It, And Then Not Go Away. Pre-Steddie

The darkness takes hold faster than Eddie imagined. He didn't think one bite, followed by another, and another, could fuck up his whole world this much. But it has, and now he's faced with the reality that he's gonna die here. On the ground, having run in the wrong direction.

Having failed.

And that's something he's gonna have to live with. Just, not for very long. He can feel his pulse hammering, beating in his chest. His neck. As the blood pulses out of him, spilling onto the filthy ground below.

He wanted to do better, wanted to not run away this time, but he still managed to fuck it up. 

Goddamnit.

He's made peace with it, even if Henderson isn't as accepting of what's coming. Maybe it's the blood loss making Eddie feel serene when he should be fighting, panicking.

It doesn't matter.

Steve Harrington is here, fighting for him. 

Eddie kind of wishes he wouldn't. He's floaty, no longer feeling pain, and anything Steve can possibly do will disturb that, surely.

"Eddie, for fuck's sake," Steve's saying, and Eddie tries to open his eyes.

"Eddie!"

His eyes snap open. Steve is hovering, "Good. That's good. I'm going to pick you up. Don't fucking die."

He's definitely gonna die, but he nods. He'll try his best.

Steve tugs on him, and the pain that sears through him is above and beyond anything he's ever felt. He lets out a hoarse scream.

"I know, I'm sorry," Steve says, throwing him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing at all, repeating his previous order: "Don't fucking die."

But Eddie thinks he'll do just that.

When he wakes up, he's in a sterile hospital room. Machines are beeping, whirring, and he thinks this has to be the calm before the storm.

But Steve Harrington's sitting in the chair next to him, looking comfortable, his feet propped up on Eddie's bed, reading a book.

Harrington reads? 

Eddie squints, tries to look closer, to see what he's reading, and realizes it's not a new book. No, it's his own copy of The Return of the King. He recognizes his own paperback's well-worn, dog-eared cover.

"My book," Eddie croaks, and Steve startles so bad, the book goes flying, skittering across the tile floor.

"I'm sorry. Wayne left it. I was bored," he starts, then immediately changes direction, "You're okay, it's okay," already pressing the call button, hammering it with his thumb, as if he's convinced Eddie's gonna drop dead in the next five seconds without help. 

The way the room fills, maybe he will. Steve has backed up against the wall, the book clutched to his chest. 

There's poking, and prodding.

Wayne rushes in, and Steve still stands there.

Finally, the crowd thins. Apparently, he's gonna live.

Steve sits back down.

"So, what's new?" Steve teases, and Eddie laughs. His throat is hoarse, dry. Steve pours water from the pink, plastic pitcher, directing the straw to his mouth. 

Eddie takes the longest, best drink of his life, then says, "Not much. You?"

Steve holds up the book and grins, "Learning about Mordor."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for these challenges, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

you | for @steddiemicrofic January prompt new

pairing: steddie (duh) | word count: 517 | rated: M | on AO3

The next morning, Steve finds himself awake much earlier than he would’ve liked; the light of the new day filtering through the blinds is still tinged with early morning darkness.

For a moment he just breathes it in.

Only a handful of hours before, he was alone.

Only a handful of hours earlier, he was convinced that the thing he wanted most in this world would always be an impossibility.

Now though, these wholly insignificant amount of hours later, he feels a shift in gravity beneath him, the warm body beside him pushing up to turn over.

“Sorry,” he whispers, “Did I wake you?”

Eddie blinks blearily over at him; his brow is scrunched in confusion, like he’s not quite sure how he got here.

“You okay, Ed?”

Eddie grunts, letting his weight fall unceremoniously onto Steve’s chest. “Mrmph.”

Steve chuckles, and Eddie shifts again, tilting his head up to poke his chin into the meat of Steve’s chest instead of his nose. “You’re thinking too hard.”

“Hmm.” he hums, snaking an arm out from under his boyf– lov– frien— out from under Eddie and over the soft planes of his back. “Go back to sleep, Teddy.”

Eddie’s nose smushes into his pec once again, and Steve can’t help but laugh, his chest causing Eddie to bounce slightly.

“Mmrughph!” he complains, louder this time, flopping an arm over him and pressing down slightly to stop him moving, “Tryin’ t’sleep, here.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Steve chuckles, squeezing Eddie tight to him. He shifts, and Eddie presses himself the rest of the way to him, his leg hooking over one of Steve’s and settling between them.

Eddie soon goes boneless again, Steve feeling each point of him as it gets heavier with sleep.

He lies there, with Eddie in his arms, and thinks.

Thinks about how they would never have been here now if not for Eddie’s penchant for popping up at Steve’s house randomly. That if he’d had anything else to do tonight, he wouldn’t’ve waltzed in just after dinner. That if Steve had any better hearing than he does, Eddie wouldn’t’ve walked straight into Steve’s room mid-jerk.

The utter horror of being walked in on (by his newfound crush no less), did absolutely nothing to quell the heat blazing through him, nor did it deter Eddie from recovering quickly enough to shut the door, lock it behind him, and climb onto the bed between Steve’s legs.

“This all for me, big boy?” He’d asked, voice low and eyes dark.

And for some reason, all Steve could do was laugh.

Laugh at being caught, laugh at Eddie’s complete acceptance of what was happening, laugh at his complete lack of hesitation.

Steve laughed, Eddie’s face started to shift from sultry to panicked, and Steve had sat forward and pulled Eddie to him, kissing him soundly.

They’d moved against each other for hours; kissing, grinding, coming, laughing some more.. It was the least scary a new thing had ever been.

Eddie shifts beside him again, “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” his leg hitches higher, feeling the effects of Steve’s reminiscing.

Steve smiles, “You.”

i haven't done a microfic in a while.. nor have i even writen/posted something in a while!! brushin off the cobwebs today apparently lmao

buy me a coffee? ☕

[steddieas-shegoes]

real proud

for @steddiemicrofic January prompt ‘new’

rated t | 517 words | no cw | tags: post-vecna, everybody lives, good uncle Wayne Munson, established relationship, fluff

🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻

“I gotta tell ya, I ain’t never had a new car before. All of mine’ve been hand me downs and extra loved,” Wayne says as he stares at the shiny truck sitting in the driveway. “This is real nice.”

Wayne walks around to inspect it while Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand nervously. Eddie didn’t even want to spend his government money, felt like it was only given out of pity and he hates pity. But his van is beyond repair and it wouldn’t have lasted much longer even if they could have fixed it, so Steve suggested he go find something he likes.

And what he liked most happened to be a new version of the first truck he remembers Wayne having. Wayne doesn’t seem to realize that part yet. He’ll get there, though.

“I wanted to find a van, but the ones they had weren’t the right ones for the band. This one can hold most of our stuff and they gave me a deal on a cover for the bed,” Eddie explains.

Steve squeezes his hand again.

“It’s good,” he mouths at Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t even know why he’s this nervous. Maybe because he’s never made any major life decision without talking to Wayne. Maybe because he thinks Wayne will be jealous. Maybe because a part of him still feels gross for using the pity money while Wayne has his stashed away.

Wayne opens the driver’s side door and whistles.

“You better not smoke in this beauty,” he yells as he sits on the leather seat. “Or eat. I’ve got some wax for leather seats I can give ya to keep these nice.”

Eddie finally lets go of Steve’s hand and gets in the passenger seat. Wayne’s messing with the radio even though the engine’s still off. The key’s in the ignition if he wants to test drive, and Eddie’s almost positive he’ll want to.

“This is nice, Ed.”

Eddie looks over at Wayne, who’s smiling at him like he’s-

“I’m real proud of ya.”

Eddie bursts into tears.

He’s been a tad emotional since they started weaning him from the meds he’s been on for months in the hospital and during physical therapy and regular therapy. He’ll cry over some of the most ridiculous things.

It’s not like Wayne hasn’t said that to him before. Wayne’s always proud of him, tells him so often enough.

Eddie just didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, even with Steve by his side telling him it was, even with the dealership people telling him it was, even with the kids telling him he needs to suck it up and get a new car.

If Wayne approves, it’s the right thing.

Steve is standing outside the passenger door, smiling at them as Wayne pulls Eddie into his side.

“You know I’ve been thinkin’,” he says to both of them. “It’s about time I spent that money they gave me.”

“Yeah?” Eddie sniffles.

“Been lookin’ at a house just outside of Hawkins. “Got plenty of room for all of us.”

“Wait. Even me?” Steve asks.

“Even you.”

[katyawriteswhump]

something new 💝 (steddie microfic, steddie bingo)

For @steddiemicrofic January prompt, ‘new’ and @steddiebingo fill, ‘soulmates.’

Rating: M; WC: 517; CW: Omegaverse; Tags: Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, fluff, mild angst and h/c, Steve and Chrissy are besties, strangers to lovers, steddie soulmates. Summary: The Omega darling of the entire High School, Steve Harrington figured he was totally in control… until Eddie Munson happened.

💝💝💝💝💝

Steve sat in the corridor, leaning against the music-room wall. On the other side, a voice soared above a thrash-metal beat and melted his inner Omega into a puddle of need.

“Steve? You’re late for cheerleading practice… Oh!” Chrissy crouched down, stroked his clammy brow. “Stevie, you’re burning up.”

“I-it’s that voice.”

This was new, frightening. Steve daily flirted his ass off without breaking sweat—the Omega Princess of Hawkins High. This terrifyingly wonderful sound, however, hit some catastrophic resonance.

Slick gushed into his cheerleader hotpants. “Chrissy, what’s happening?”

“I think,” said the other Omega, “Eddie is happening.”

“Munson?”

The wild noisy music checked out, scaring Steve shitless. Eddie was a ‘dangerous’ bad-boy Alpha. They’d never even spoken.

“Sssssh, breathe,” said Chrissy. “C’mon, let’s clean you up.”

They skipped practice, while Steve calmed. Chrissy reassured him she’d known Eddie for years: “He looks scary, but he’s really nice.”

Later, in the canteen, Steve tentatively approached Eddie, who glanced his way, eyes narrowing. His Alpha musk—smoky-sweet with undertones of freshly-fired iron—stabbed Steve like a smoldering dagger.

Steve woke up at home, confused and mildly slick, a wisp of Eddie’s scent still upon him.

Horror struck.

He’d fainted! Chrissy, who sat by his bed, told him Eddie had been worried, and they’d brought him home together. Ugh, he was still so ashamed.

Steve couldn’t face college the next day. By lunchtime, multiple deliveries of chocolates and flowers had arrived from various Alphas.

Nothing new. None of them smelled of Eddie. He’d blown it.

Then an envelope landed on the doormat, containing a mixtape lightly doused in... Eddie’s scent.

Steve slid it into his Walkman and lay down, pulse skittering.

Hardcore-metal thrilled through him, interjected with soft-rock he already loved, like Bon Jovi.

Finally, Eddie sang.

Steve writhed, stroking himself, weeping with need. Eddie husked in his ears: “Never even spoken, never fucking touched. You tore inside me, twisting viscera, totally fucked me up…”

In the aftermath, Steve trembled, stunned.

The phone rang.

His parents were away, so Eddie came straight over. Chrissy, too, for support. This time, Steve perched on the bed, while Eddie approached cautiously. He kneeled to take Steve’s hand, smiling tentatively.

“This is new for me,” he mumbled, blushing and almost bashful. He kissed Steve’s fingers, setting Steve reeling giddily, tingling head-to-toe: “Never courted an Omega, like, old-school, before.”

Steve nearly yelled: This is the first time I’ve genuinely wanted to be courted. Instead, he said, “I love your voice.”

Please jump my bones already?

Eddie blushed harder and beamed wolfishly. Steve clasped his wrist and tugged him onto the bed, and animal magnetism did the rest. Eddie took Steve in his arms. Excruciatingly sweetly, Eddie’s lips brushed Steve’s, tongue probing gently. Steve tipped his throat back with a relieved sigh, turning willingly pliant. Eddie licked and nuzzled his scent-gland, setting him purring.

Chrissy giggled. “Gonna call Rob to pick me up.”

A month later, they were going steady. Eddie finally shared the title of the song he wrote that first day, when the longing in Steve’s Omega scent hijacked him and transformed his life forever:

‘Soulmates.’

💝💝💝💝💝

zero pressure tag: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

[mrsjellymunson]

Something Old, Something New

Written for the @steddiemicrofic January challenge prompt ‘new’ || WC target: 517 || Rating: M || CW: very brief and vague allusion to sex, self-doubt, sentiment, fluff || Tags: nervous!Eddie Munson, background Steve Harrington, Wayne Munson, very background Al Munson

OLD

Eddie reaches into the collar of his shirt and runs his fingertips along the tarnished chain. It’s his old guitar pick necklace, the one he was wearing the day they met. He remembers how Steve asked about it, nervously. How he fiddled with it when they first spent time alone. How it swung over his face and chest when they finally—

“How are you doing? Really?”

Eddie looks away from the hotel mirror to regard his uncle. He tries to sound confident, but his voice cracks a little.

“I’m fine, honestly. You’re here, my friends are all here. It doesn’t get much better than that, right?”

NEW

“You look good, son.”

Eddie turns.

“Thanks, Wayne. But honestly, I think this suit is doing most of the work.”

He fusses in front of the mirror again, smoothing the black fabric and adjusting his tie for the dozenth time.

“Steve insisted I go to the same tailor he used, but also get something that was really me. I dunno though, I feel like a penguin.”

Wayne tries to quash Eddie’s self-doubt, which is clearly about more than the suit.

“Listen, I know you’re not used to someone taking care of you like this. But he’s good for you. He’s helping you to see your worth. And you’re good for him too. You keep him grounded, and will always remind him of how much he’s loved.”

Eddie gives him a thin-lipped smile.

BORROWED

Wayne clears his throat as he reaches inside his jacket. Pulling out a worn velvet box, he murmurs,

“I wanted you to have this, for today.”

Eddie takes it, a confused look on his face. He’s seen it at the back of Wayne’s closet, but never asked what it was.

He lifts the lid to reveal a watch, clearly antique. Gold or brass, he neither knows nor cares; it’s beautiful.

“It was your grandfathers. I managed to hide it, keep it from, well, you know…”

Eddie frowns and nods. Had his father known about this he would’ve pawned it without a moment’s thought.

Eddie places it on his wrist as his uncle fastens the clasp.

“I got the strap altered for ya. Had to measure one of those darned leather bracelets one day when you were in the shower. I felt like a goddamned secret agent’r somethin’.”

Eddie snorts as his uncle shakes his head.

He regards himself in the mirror again. The suit, the watch. He stands a little taller, a little straighter. Maybe Wayne’s right? He can do this. He deserves this.

BLUE

He glances out the window to where Steve’s baby-blue pick-up truck sits gleaming in the parking lot.

The Party’s decorated it with white satin ribbons, soda cans on string, and ‘Just Wed’ on the rear window in chalk marker. Eddie makes out geometric shapes, and wonders who suggested drawing D&D dice instead of hearts.

Wayne checks in one more time.

”You sure you’re okay, son?”

Eddie looks at his uncle and nods assertively, smiling.

“Definitely. It’s a new beginning. I’m marrying the love of my life, and I couldn’t be happier.”

A/N: You could take this literally, where the Something Old is Eddie’s necklace and/or the heirloom watch, and the Something New is his new suit and/or Steve’s pick-up. Or, you might prefer that Something Old is Eddie’s lingering self-doubt, and Something New is his burgeoning self-confidence and self-worth, or their new beginning, as they step into their new life together. Or you might pick both, or something different, it's entirely up to you.

A/N2: I initially wrote this to imply Eddie was getting ready to read the eulogy at Steve’s funeral, only to pull an abrupt switcheroo near the end. But quite frankly I couldn’t bring myself to write anything sad right now, even if it did end happily, as I think we all need cheering up given current world events.

And in case anyone’s interested, here’s the meaning behind the old rhyme:

“The Old English [Victorian era] rhyme is all about good luck charms, "Something Olde (symbolizes continuity), Something New (offers optimism for the future), Something Borrowed (represents borrowed happiness), Something Blue (purity, love and fidelity), and a Sixpence (maybe a 5 cent piece) in your Shoe (prosperity).”

Tagging my general list (open, just ask): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose

More Eddie & Steddie on my masterlist

[fkinkindagauche]

Brand New Key

This is for @steddiemicrofic January prompt "new". Inspiration taken from the song "Brand New Key", originally by Melanie, but I will admit the version I'm familiar with is Rasputina's.

Rating: T | WC: 517 | CW: None

"That's a nice new ride you've got there."

Eddie's head shot up in surprise, banging against the bottom of the van. He'd been underneath it, getting ready to change the oil. He hadn't even heard anyone walking up.

"Fuck," he muttered, rubbing the knot already forming on his forehead. He looked to the side and saw a pair of bright pink roller skates. Odd, he was pretty sure that had been a man's voice.

He wheeled himself out from beneath the van, feasting his eyes on the glorious man positioned before him. The bright pink roller skates led up to a pair of finely sculpted calves, and then the most delectable thighs he'd ever seen. Short blue shorts and a white crop top completed the ensemble.

Eddie was ashamed at how long it took his eyes to reach the face of the man in question, but, well. He was on the ground. Could he really be blamed?

"I'm Steve," the man announced, face breaking into a smile.

Eddie was dumbstruck. Completely flabbergasted. Pretty sure he'd died and gone to heaven.

"Uh," Steve said after a moment, smile falling. "Sorry, are you deaf?"

He didn't even say it a mean way. He was legitimately asking Eddie if he was deaf.

Eddie shook his head vigorously in an attempt to regain some composure. "No! Not deaf. Sorry. Just - banged my head a little there." He let out a weak chuckle and pushed himself up from the ground.

"I'm Eddie," he said, holding out a hand to this beautiful, god-like creature. This Steve.

Steve took it, giving Eddie's hand a firm shake.

"Not a lot of people our age around here with their own car," Steve said, eyes raking over Eddie's van. "All I've got are these skates." He motioned down to his legs. As if Eddie needed to be reminded they were there. He'd never forget those legs. They were seared onto his retinas. He'd see them every time he closed his eyes, for the rest of his life.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, somehow finding his voice. "You got places you need to go?"

Steve honest to god batted his eyelashes at Eddie. "A few. What've you got in the back?"

This was definitely heaven. "Not much. Some blankets. A little weed. Wanna see?"

"Yeah," Steve said, voice breathy. A little pink tongue darted out as he licked his lips.

Holy shit. Eddie scrambled around to the back of the van, wiping his engine grease- covered hands on his jeans. He opened the doors and crawled in. Steve clambered in after him, skates thunking heavily on the metal, and pulled the doors shut after him.

"Alright, I've got weed here somewhere," Eddie muttered to himself, rifling through the blankets.

Steve grabbed one of his wrists, stopping his frantic scrambling. "Not really here for the weed, Eddie."

He crawled into Eddie's lap, pressing him against the side of the van. "I've got this brand new pair of roller skates," Steve said, lips almost pressing against Eddie's. "But I've been looking for a different kind of ride for a long time."

Heaven.

[stevesjockstrap]

Desperate

•@steddiemicrofic prompt: hole | 404 words | rated E

•cw: masturbation interruptus, pet names, sex toy, anal fingering, a little manipulation (but it works out)

•read on ao3

It wasn’t uncommon, hearing Steve whimpering in the bedroom next to his, but it was strange to hear it as soon as he got home. It was still light out.

But as he let himself into Steve’s room on autopilot, he was not met with his roommate struggling in a nightmare. Instead, he was shocked by the low groan and a whimpered, “Eddie!”

Sprawled out and naked, shoving a vibrator into himself, Steve didn’t stop as Eddie stared at him from the doorway. If anything it spurred him on, his hips rocking, fucking himself down onto the toy.

When his brain finally caught up with him, he realized what this was. A grin spread across his face.

“Well, if you needed fucked this badly, sunshine, you could’ve just asked,” he said lowly as he approached the end of the bed. Steve whimpered at him again and he chuckled. “This is for me, right? You could’ve done this all day while I was gone. I think you waited just for me, baby.”

“Y-yeah, ah- tired of waiting.”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he cooed. “I had no idea that you needed that. Look so good, all spread out for me.” Eddie crept closer, letting Steve track his gaze as it dragged down his flushed face, past his gorgeous chest hair, landing on his heavy cock leaking onto his belly. “Didn’t even touch yourself, angel? Being such a good boy for me already. You think you can come just from that little plastic in your ass?”

Steve shook his head, grumbling. “N-no, I need, ah, I need more. Please!”

“I know. I’m sure that greedy hole needs a lot more than that, Stevie. Did you have something bigger in mind?”

“Please! Oh fuck. I need it, Eds, ah!”

He smirked as he watched more precome leak from his dick onto his stomach, gasping and writhing around on his toy.

“Say it and you can have it, gorgeous. Go ahead.”

“God, I want your big fucking cock, please Eddie. I’ve been thinking about it forever,” he whined.

“Oh, forever?” He teased, even as he shed all of his layers.

Quickly using the lube beside him, he slapped Steve’s hand away from the toy and pushed two fingers in beside it, angling them to rub against his prostate. Steve cried out, hands clenching in the sheets.

“Gunna ruin this little hole of yours, sunshine. Gunna absolutely fucking ruin you.”

(😘 @eddiethehunted @machtaholic)

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

January prompt: hole

Word count: 404

No warnings apply

Rated G

@steddiemicrofic

Eddie stares at him, sometimes.

He’ll trail off in the middle of a sentence, completely enthralled in watching Steve do whatever he’s doing. Most of the time he doesn’t seem to realize he’s stopped talking, even. When Steve gets him to focus again, all thoughts have been scattered.

He seems embarrassed, every time, but Steve waves him off; wants to kiss him about it, actually, so he tries to let Eddie have all the time he needs.

Sometimes Eddie will go off on rabbit trails, hopping from one subject to the next, so excited about whatever it is he’s talking about that Steve wants to kiss him about that, too.

Steve kinda just wants to kiss him all the time.

It’s not a problem. Until it is. Until one day Eddie’s talking, jumping from subject to subject, and suddenly stops. Suddenly stares at Steve with something so bright in his eyes that Steve feels his cheeks getting red. “Can I… talk to you?” He asks hesitantly, like he hadn’t been talking to Steve for the past twenty minutes straight.

“‘Course, Eds,” Steve says softly, like he always will.

“Okay. Cause, uh.” He takes a breath, tears his eyes away from Steve. “Cause like. Okay. Y’know how when you were little, and your parents taught you to tie your shoes with the two loops, and then later they taught you the bunny around the tree and in the hole? But how you were too impatient and wanted to learn how to do it like them, cause you wanted to do everything like them, so you tried to figure it out on your own?” He looks down at his hands in his lap. “You just… wanted to be like them. ‘Cause they were kinda your… your epitome of everything good and right in the world, y’know? And then maybe you grew up and realized they weren’t perfect. But there’s still things about them you wanted to copy.” He runs a hand through his hair. “One of those things, for me, was learning to shut up once in a while. But you… you look at me, sometimes, like you want me to never shut up. And I’m thinking that maybe that’s something I shouldn’t copy from them. That maybe it’s not bad.”

“It’s not,” Steve promises. “I want to hear everything.”

Eddie swallows. “Sometimes it looks like you wanna kiss me.”

Steve swallows, whispers back, “I do.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

The adventures of Eddie Munson, jerk

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge January 2024 edition

Prompt: hole, 404 words

Rated: T

Tags: modern AU; meet cute; HOH Steve Harrington; Eddie "foot in mouth" Munson; Eddie being a horny shit

Notes: based on this idea I posted a while ago. I'd link it, but alas, the tumblr search function sucks. I'll add it when I find it I guess. (Edit: found it!)

Ping.

Eddie's about to commit homicide in an airport terminal. Walk over to that asshole with the laptop and throttle him with the cord. Bury him in a shallow hole, chuck his beeping hell machine right-

Okay, breathe. 

He's overreacting. The guy's an inconsiderate jerk, but he doesn’t deserve to be murdered. Eddie's just a bit on edge ‘cause he got up at ass o'clock and now his flight is delayed and his neck is hurting from the plastic chairs and his phone is dying and- 

Ping.

Okay, that's it. 

Eddie stomps over, propelled by rage and too many energy drinks.

“Hey, asshole!”

Laptop jerk just continues typing. So he thinks he can ignore him, huh? Eddie reaches him just as the laptop dings again, grabs him by the shoulder. 

“Hey, dickhead, I'm talking to you.” 

Laptop jerk flinches so hard he nearly sends his device flying, head whipping up and- 

-shit, he's cute. Big, hazel eyes full of shocked confusion under a swoop of chestnut hair. Perfect, pouty lips parted in surprise. Eddie has a sudden impulse to wrap a hand around the curve of that throat, drop his voice, tell him to say sorry like a good boy. 

Which would be … wildly inappropriate. 

“Listen,” he says instead. “Your beeping is annoying the living hell outta me, so-” 

Something is pressed into his hand. Something rectangular and plasticy, like a business card.

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters, lifts it so that he can read what it says. 

Hi, I'm Steve. I'm hard of hearing. 

Wait, what?

Eddie's eyes flit back to laptop jerk's face. He's smiling, but there's a distinct undercurrent of confusion and concern. Like he doesn’t know why Eddie's so angry, which is true of course, because he can't fucking hear, has no idea what he did wrong and fuuuuck, who's the jerk now? 

That shallow hole still sounds tempting, just for entirely different reasons. 

“Erm, it's just …” he starts, more slowly now, those pretty eyes following the movement of his lips. “I've been wondering if maybe …” 

Steve tilts his head. 

"... you'd wanna have coffee? My flight's delayed and-” 

If the curl of Steve's mouth is anything to go by, he knows exactly that this isn't what he wanted to say. 

He nods anyway. 

By the time Eddie’s flight lifts off, his phone is dead, but there's a sticky note with a number tucked into his pocket.

[messessentialist]

JANUARY MICROFIC - Fixation

@steddiemicrofic | PROMPT: hole | WORD COUNT: 404 | RATED: T | CW: none

---

They're hiding from the heat in Eddie's bedroom when it happens.

Eddie is draped across the bed, t-shirt rucked up under his armpits to let the window unit cool his tacky skin. Steve, in turn, is sprawled in the rickety chair, making slow work of shuffling through the contents of Eddie's desk drawers.

"Has anyone ever told you you're kind of a hoarder?" He asks, casual, and rattles an Altoids tin full of loose screws and washers in Eddie's direction. It's one of three such tins he's discovered so far.

"S'been said, yeah," Eddie sighs. "Mostly by people invading my privacy and smoking my weed."

"Shut up."

Eddie snaps off a lazy salute, but makes no further reply.

Steve is searching the back of the bottom drawer for further Sin Tins when his eye catches on something red. It's the curled edge of a notebook, crushed into the corner and forgotten. He tugs it loose, bending it back into shape before flipping it open.

"Oh, holy shit."

Eddie cracks one eye open, and then sits bolt upright on the bed.

"Steve, give me that. Right now."

Steve does not respond. He continues paging through the notebook, eyes impossibly wide.

It's…dicks. Every square inch of space on every page is covered in drawings of dicks. And not the lazy teenage graffiti type of dicks, either. There's an enormous variety of styles, from cartoonish doodles to hyper-realistic portraits, complete with intricately-scrolled frames. They're mostly in ballpoint blue or sketchy graphite gray, though some look like there might have been colored pencils or even markers involved.

"Dude," Steve breathes, holding the book out in front of himself and rotating it for a better angle on something, "some of these are…really good."

Eddie lunges for the book, but Steve easily snaps it out of his reach. He flops back onto the bed, heaving a defeated sigh.

"I'll have to kill you now."

Steve ignores him, flipping to another page and continuing his perusal.

"I mean, this one is crazy detailed. Did this dude, like…model for you, or something?" He brings it closer to his face, brows scrunching. "Is that…a piercing?"

"Prince Albert," Eddie groans from the bed. "If it's the one I think."

Steve's face has gone scarlet, voice weak. "People do that? Put a hole in their dick?"

And suddenly, Eddie has the upper hand again.

"They sure do, Harrington," he coos, saccharine. "Wanna see the original?"