#steddie microfic
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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!
#steddie#steddie fic#steddie fanfic#steddie fanfiction#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steddiemicrofic#steddie microfic#steddiemicroficjanuary#myblurbs
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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?”
#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie microfic#stranger things#no I don't know what this is#but if I sit on it any longer I'm gonna edit it to ruins so here take it don't look at me thank you#(this was actually fun to write though)#solar wrote#eddiesteve
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Vanilla with Fresh Strawberries
written for ‘cake’ @steddiemicrofic wc: 311 | rated: T | cw: parental neglect
Steve's birthday cake is always vanilla with fresh strawberries.
It's always been vanilla with fresh strawberries, because that's what his mother ordered every year. And, once his mother started following his dad around the country, that's what Tommy and Carol remembered having, so that's what they got. Then, after Tommy and Carol dropped him, Robin somehow figured out that vanilla with fresh strawberries was Steve's normal birthday cake order, so she started to get that.
Vanilla with fresh strawberries from Joanie's bakery right in the middle of town. That was the routine. That was how it always had been.
And because that's the routine, because that's always been the routine, Steve feels justified in being confused when Eddie hands him a chocolate cupcake.
"Happy birthday, my darling," He crooned as he did, looking around discreetly before leaning over the counter of Family Video to press a quick kiss to Steve's cheek.
"What's this?"
"A cupcake?" Eddie replied, sounding just as confused as Steve.
"It's chocolate," Steve shot back, like that should explain everything.
"Yeah? It's your favorite," Eddie said casually, completely missing the way that Steve's eyes grew wide and his breath caught in his throat.
There were a lot of things Steve could have said at that moment. Things he could have said to Eddie
He could have told Eddie about his normal order. He could have told Eddie that he found out he was allergic to strawberries when he was eight, but no one else had noticed that he broke out in hives if he had anything with strawberries in it. He could have told Eddie what this single stupid cupcake meant to him, about the way his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.
"Chocolate is my favorite," Steve said instead, taking a small bite and savoring the taste of actual, real, love.
#steve harrington#stranger things#st#eddie munson#steddie#steddie microfic#st drabble#steddie ficlet#cw: neglect#hehehe#I enjoyed writing this
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Vampire Pancakes
A response to this writing prompt. Thought it was too cute, had to write it! @dwobbitfromtheshire
🥞🫐
No one really knows what to do with Eddie right now. Everyone is jittery around him, going so far as to hold their breath when he so much as twitches. Even Dustin is squinting at him with calculating eyes; he's analyzing Eddie for threat.
Eddie will continue to courteously ignore the hand that Nancy is keeping stationed on her belt conveniently close to the little pistol everyone knows she's hiding. It doesn't matter that Eddie helped them kill Vecna, or that he saved Baby Byers' life. It doesn't matter when he has sharp teeth, dark eyes, and a thirst for blood. He can't blame 'em for being scared.
Eddie thinks about his dad. Wonders if even Al would see Eddie as a monster now.
Eddie got picked on a lot as a kid and he'd often come home from school tired and weepy. Al would look up from the couch in that black tank top he always wore. He'd set down whatever he was smoking to pat the spot next to him.
"What happened Ed? Was some little shithead mean to ya?"
Eddie would nod and slump into his father's side, eyes burning from the spicy, smokey air. When Eddie pressed his face into his dad's arm, Al would pull back and pat his head with sorrowful eyes. Al didn't really know how to comfort a kid or maybe he thought that being distant was in Eddie's best interest.
"You're too soft, Ed. Ya gotta make those kids think you can pack a punch. Chin up, eyes mean, shoulders back. Make 'em intimidated, make 'em fear ya."
So like any kid who thinks their dad's word is law, Eddie listened, or tried his best at least. But his dad never said that mean eyes, dark clothes, and loud music would get him accused of witchcraft by a bunch'a angry jocks and chased straight into hell.
Now his sheepies -his kiddos- are looking at him like they're scared, like they can't trust him and that is a fucking gut punch. Because pretty early on in his high school career, he decided that his purpose was gonna be standing as a shield for other kids like him. He wanted to be a source of safety and warmth in an otherwise cold and unforgiving storm.
Being feared is lonely and sad, Eddie has discovered, and he worries this is his new permanent reality.
Eddie quietly sits through his friends hammering out the logistics of a nighttime schedule to organize sleeping shifts so someone always has an eye on him. It's sick. Eddie has to excuse himself to cry about it. He has no uncontrollable urges to eat anyone here, Steve does smell appetizing, but he wouldn't jump the guy.
He can still eat human food apprently, it barely does anything for him, but it's something. Eddie thinks it's enough to quell any feral urges he may or may not get. He thinks the party is being unreasonable about their safety precautions, but really, he'd probably do the same if there was a monster in the same house as him.
🥞🫐
It's a long night, he can't fall asleep but he'll pretend to so that everyone can relax a little. The changing of the guard chafes at him and makes his lip quiver. He bites his lip to prevent a wounded sound from slipping out when Robin nudges Steve awake and says it's "his turn on hell shift". Eddie jolts because he remembers he has real sharp teeth now, and biting his lip does, in fact, hurt like a bitch.
"You're not asleep, huh?" He hears whispered into the air of the big living room after Robin has settled back into sleep. It's Steve's sweet and melodic voice.
"I'm trying." He responds, brokenly.
"Wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute? I need'a smoke." Steve is already shrugging the sheets off of him and carefully stepping over his sleeping friends towards the back door. Eddie doesn't think he has a choice, but to follow. Stepping out of this stuffy room does sound like a relief though.
Eddie makes the same journey through the sea of teenagers sprawled across Steve's floor and out the sliding glass door. When he steps onto the patio, all of the crickets stop chirping around him. The night goes silent. What the fuck? Is that because of him? He loves the sound of crickets, though.
He walks over and curls up in one of the Harringtons' fancy-loungy-pool-chairs. Steve stays standing, leaning artfully against the side of his house next to the glass. He flicks open his lighter and the small flame illuminates his square jawline with a warm glow. He's so achingly handsome. He's like a movie star, or a model.
"You okay?" Steve asks conversationally.
"Not even a little."
Steve sighs and pushes off the wall to walk towards Eddie's chair. He sits at the foot of it and swivels so he's looking at Eddie.
"I'm really sorry Eddie. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. I won't pretend to." Steve sets a hand on Eddie's ankle and Eddie could cry from the small gesture of comfort that he's practically writhing for. "I feel like what happened to you is all my fault. I know that 'sorry' wont cut it, but for the record, I am. Completely and utterly sorry." That's a silly thing to think.
"It's not your fault, are you kidding? How do you reckon it's your fault?"
"Sending you with Dustin? Alone? Putting all that responsibility on you?" Steve looks down at his cigarette with disgust. He twists it into the cold concrete next to his socked foot and looks back at Eddie. There's no fear in his expression, and for once Eddie is grateful for his reckless bravery.
"It was the best plan and we all agreed to it. Don't sweat it, Harrington." Eddie feels like he's not all there. Feels like maybe if he was more composed he could comfort Steve better, but he's hungry and dazed, sad and tired. Steve nods solemnly, and clears this throat.
"And about everyone being kind of on edge... It'll pass. I think they're all thinking about when Billy Hargrove got possessed by the mind flayer and went homicidal on us. He tried to kill all the kids."
Eddie desperately wants to hear all the other Upside down stories one day. He keeps trying to stitch together all these scraps of lore that keep getting dropped on him. He has no right to ask about something so traumatic, so he'll just be patient and wait for more lore to drop.
"Everyone's just being cautious. Vecna's dead though, so I'm not really sure who they think would possess you." Steve finishes and squeezes Eddie's lower calf where his hand rests.
"I get it. Kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it." Eddie mumbles and feels his eyes getting heavy. He wonders if he could fall asleep out here. Maybe if the crickets were still chirping and it wasn't so goddamn quiet.
"I'm sorry, Eddie." It's fine, this might not even be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.
🥞🫐
In the morning Eddie curls himself into Steve's little kitchen nook. Eddie kind of loves the window seat, it's something his mom would have wanted, Eddie theorizes. She was always looking out windows, probably daydreaming about escaping. Eddie does it too.
The kids seem warmer this morning. There's no more hushed whispers or pointed looks. They're talking and moving around the house less cautiously. Hopefully, the stiffest interactions and the worst of their distrust is behind them. Nancy's still watching him like a hawk though.
Steve shuffles into view, his socks are bunched up around his ankles. It's cute.
He holds out a plate for Eddie with a dumb smile on his face. When Eddie reaches for it, he sees a stack of pancakes and the top pancake has a little face made out of blueberries and two whipped cream fangs. It's a vampire pancake. Steve made Eddie a sweet little vampire pancake.
"Oh my god, you're so adorable." Eddie squeaks and makes a grabby hand for the fork Steve's holding. Steve blushes and hands over the fork.
"Do you like it?" Steve asks coyly. The pancakes feel like a hug, they feel like an apology that Steve doesn't even owe.
"I love it, chef." Eddie pokes at the pancake-vampire's cheek. "I don't know if I can eat him. He's too cute." Eddie giggles. Steve looks up at him with bright sparkly eyes. God he's perfect. Eddie's hungry for him in five different ways.
Robin and Dustin come up beside Steve to look down at the plate.
"I want one!" Dustin announces loudly. Steve turns around and heads back to the stove, he looks so proud of himself.
"You can have normal pancakes. Those are special for Eddie." Steve says with a wink. Dustin looks down at Eddie and pouts at him as if Eddie has any say in who gets what kind of pancake.
"Dustin had to watch it all happen, he should get one too." Eddie tells Steve earnestly while Steve is pouring more batter into the pan.
Dustin gloats and yells "Exactly! Thank you, Eddie."
And it feels like things are gonna be okay.
#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#steddie ficlet#steve x eddie#steddie fluff#soft steve harrington#steve harrington is a sweetheart#kas eddie munson#vampire eddie munson#vampire eddie x steve#writing prompt#steddie microfic
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stick a pin in it
written for @steddiemicrofic march prompt: pin | 388 words | rated: T
During the summer of 1986, Eddie makes himself a new battle vest. Try as they might, they can't quite get Steve Harrington's blood out of the first one; and though Eddie thinks that may add a certain…je no say whatever to it, in the end, he finds an old jean jacket of Wayne’s, chops the arms off and starts all over again.
It doesn’t end up being too difficult. He repurposes patches from the old one. Cuts up an old t-shirt and sews it on the back. Even paints some shit on it with Jane El Hopper-Byers’ paints she lets him borrow. He does it all by hand, like he did the other one, because he likes it. Because it turns out to be pretty decent physical therapy for his bat-eaten muscles. Because it reminds him of the way his mom used to patch up their clothes when he was little, because they couldn’t afford to buy something brand new.
He adds to it all summer long, in bits and pieces as he finds things he wants to attach to it. The vest ends up being an extension of himself, you see. A little bit of his heart on the outside, cloaking himself with it. He adds to the vest, like he adds a gaggle of children to his group of friends, or a kiss from Steve Harrington to his list of first times.
One day, in late August, they sit off to the side of the Harrington pool, teenagers splashing around like children. Steve is laid out like a goddamn Adonis in his tiny swim trunks, sun bathing and delicious. Eddie sews in his cut off jeans, he hasn’t been able to stop looking at Steve all day, chewing on his bottom lip. He watches as Steve reaches down into the folds of the towel on the ground, takes something out, and tosses it to Eddie, and catches it.
“Now what’s this?” Eddie asks. He knows what it is. He knows exactly what it is. It reads, CLASS OF ‘85 under a monogram of HHS.
Steve shrugs. “My class pin. If you want it.” He sounds more nonchalant than Eddie thinks he is, from the blush on his cheeks that he is sure isn’t from the sun. “Thought you might want to put it on your vest.”
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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?"
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for @steddiemicrofic's prompt "pine"
Forest fire
508/M/content warning drug use.
“Dude, you're pining so much it's like staring at a forest.” Eddie turned his attention to the joint he was rolling, trying his hardest not to get distracted by his own hopeless one sided attraction.
Steve lolled his head, snaking his mop of hair into the side of Eddie's neck, tickling at the spot right under his chin.
“I don't get it?” he blinked up at Eddie, eyes hazy with the last round of weed.
“It's a pun. Pine tree, forest, your pining. Obviously moping over some unrequited love. Did Wheeler turn you down again?” Talk about self sabotage. Eddie wouldn't ever have Steve. He knew that, but he wanted him to be happy. So he would support him in his romantic endeavours. Cheer him along every step of the way. Even if it did feel like throwing himself on his own sword.
“What are you on about Eds?”
“You've been distant all night, practically tripping over that bottom lip of yours.”
Steve shuffled his head deeper into his shoulder, it wasn't snuggling.
Eddie had to keep telling himself that.
It was just cold, and Steve didn’t like to smoke joints in the house. The pool house, however, was very much in limits. It had become a regular thing for them both to curl up in the wicker chair and share space, air, breath…
Bad Eddie no, stop it.
Steve just craved touch when he was stoned, that was all.
He always seeks you out though. The traitorous part of his mind provided. It didn't help that Steve's breath was ghosting his cheek now as Steve tried to read his expression and understand his words.
The lip reading was also high on the list of things that were out to kill him.
Steve staring at his lips was sending all the wrong messages to his fragile brain. And Steve would stare all the time even when he was wearing the government issue hearing aids.
“I don't know why you keep bringing her up?” Steve whispered, eyes narrowing as Eddie lifted the joint to his own lips, lighting it and taking a hit. Without thinking he lowered the blunt to Steve to take a drag. He expected Steve to take it from his hand, but the younger man lent in taking a draw straight from Eddie's fingers, never once breaking eye contact, blowing the smoke back into Eddie's face on the exhale.
Fuck that was hot.
Eddie's brain really needed to fuck off.
“I know. That's why I did it.” Steve was staring straight at him when the smoke cleared, a mischievous grin on his face.
Brain to mouth filter? Not on Eddie's watch. Apparently.
He quickly pulled another hit trying to hide his flush, but Steve was watching every move.
“You should try that move on Nance.” Eddie coughed out.
Steve reached out gently, pulling them together until Eddie could feel Steve's lips ghosting his own.
“I tried it on you.” Steve rolled his eyes. “But apparently you can't see the wood for the pine trees.”
Oh… oh..
#steddie#stranger things#steddie microfic december#eddie munson#steve harrington#steve x eddie#eddie/steve#steddie fic#steddie microfic#pez micro fic
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of swords and holes
@steddiemicrofic "hole" | G | 404 | cw medical drugs | transfem Stevie, pre-relationship, mutual pining | part 2 here
“Boop.”
Eddie sighs.
“How long is she gonna be like this?”
“Well, how has she reacted to anesthesia in the past?”
“Uh.”
He thinks back to their post-Vecna hospitalization period.
“She’s a lightweight.”
The doctor chuckles.
“Well, the worst of it should pass in half an hour.”
“Why is there a hole in your ear?”
Eddie sighs, pulling Stevie’s finger away from his earlobe.
“Thanks, doc. We’ll holler if anything changes,” Robin answers this time, attracting her friend’s attention. She blinks up at her.
“Why does he have a hole in his ear?” she asks again in a tone suggesting a whisper.
“Why do you have tits?” Robin asks back and she pouts.
“I don’t-” She looks down and cuts herself off. “Holy shit! I have tits!”
“Yeah, you do.” Robin chuckles, patting her hand.
Stevie looks up to the other side, grinning happily.
“I have tits!”
Eddie smiles at her.
“Yeah, pretty girl.”
Her smile widens, and then she’s looking him up and down.
“Are you my boyfriend?”
Robin starts cackling, while Eddie goes red in the face. Stevie looks between them, lost, before coming to a conclusion.
“Ah, sorry. If you were my boyfriend I’d never let anyone put holes in your ears,” she says sadly, shaking her head. Robin starts howling.
“Oh, okay, so it’s a Bully Eddie Day, I see,” he scoffs, amused nevertheless. He raises an eyebrow when Stevie starts excitedly patting his knee. “Yes?”
“Eddie!”
“Yes, that’s me,” he smiles.
“I’m sorry for what I said about your holey ears. I’m just angry you can’t wear the earrings from me.”
Eddie was lost and Robin was laughing herself to death. He might be dying too, actually.
“You never gave me earrings?”
“Because!” She squeezes his knee almost painfully. “You said you were stretching your ears before I could give them to you!”
He hesitantly puts his hand on hers.
“I’m sorry. Can you describe them to me?”
Faced with her pouty lips and tiny frown, Eddie was melting from the inside.
“They were swords. With tiny gemstones on the handles.”
“They sound lovely. Do you still have them?”
“Well, yes. Was gonna figure out how to make a necklace from them.”
“Can I have them? I don’t think I’ll be stretching my ears more anyway.”
“You want them?” Stevie’s eyes sparkle.
“I’d want anything you give me,” he admits.
Robin was alive again and fake-retching next to them.
more Stevie | spicy Stevie | masterpost
#steddie#mine#steddiemicroficjanuary#steddiemicrofic#microfic#eddie munson#stranger things#steve harrington#ff#st#stranger things 4#steddie fanfiction#steddie microfic#transfem stevie harrington#stevie harrington
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The trouble with cones
Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, December 2023 edition
Prompt: pine, 508 words
Rated: M
CW: Explicit language
Tags: Coffee shop owner Steve; Tattoo studio owner Eddie; Flirting; Teasing; Sexual Tension
(Everything goes under the cut bc Eddie jumps right to the important question.)
“Is that a butt plug?”
Steve pinches his nose and heaves a long-suffering sigh. Tries to steel himself for the sight awaiting him. Turns and realizes he failed.
Eddie is leaning in the door of his tattoo studio, mouth curled into a cocky grin. Sleeves rolled up, like the cold doesn't bother him at all, revealing lean forearms covered in ink. Snowflakes gathering in his hair, stark white against the dark curls.
“Fucking hilarious,” Steve rolls his eyes, just barely remembers to cap his window marker before he tugs his freezing hands into his armpits. “Don't you have better things to do?”
“Well…” Eddie's eyes crinkle. “I'm not the one drawing a butt plug on my window.”
“It's a pine cone!” Steve sputters, face lighting up like a furnace. It stings in the frosty air. “Jesus fuck- it's supposed to look festive, why would I draw a butt plug?”
Eddie watches him gesture at the cursed creation he has spent the last thirty minutes slaving over with an expression full of fond indulgence. When Steve signed the contract for his quaint little coffee shop, he wondered why there were no other bidders for the place …
“See, I wondered, but who am I to kink shame you?”
He is beginning to suspect the reason now.
“It is a pine cone,” he insists lamely. “It even has the- what d'you call them? The little nub thingies!”
Eddie quirks a brow. Steve turns and looks at his work.
“Oh fuck,” he groans.
Eddie pulls some hair in front of his mouth, but his shoulders are shaking treacherously. Steve thinks he dies, just a little.
“Here, lemme help.”
Eddie's hands are warm as he steals the marker from his stiff fingers. He whips his bandana from his back pocket to wipe the embarrassing evidence of Steve's total lack of artistic talent off the window, and then-
Then he works his magic. Steve watches him bounce to and fro before the glass like a manic blur of creative energy, brow furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out from between plush lips.
When he steps away, Steve doesn't say anything for a second. Too mesmerized by the image Eddie has thrown together with those quick, efficient strokes of his wrist. A steaming mug of coffee, surrounded by a cluster of artfully scattered pine cones, baubles and twinkling lights dangling above.
“Thanks,” he finally manages to croak. “It's… That really wasn't-”
And then Eddie grabs his arm and pushes back the sleeve of his sweater and he forgets what words are.
“Did you…” he squawks when he finally remembers. “Did you just write on my arm with window marker?”
“Yup,” Eddie says proudly, tugging the marker into Steve’s back pocket. “So that you know where to find me. In case you ever need my assistance with any conical objects again.”
He winks, and then he's skipping into his studio. Steve stays outside and stares at the numbers on his arm for a long time. The snow falls around him, but suddenly he isn't cold anymore.
Part 2
#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie brainrot#steddie fanfic#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#steddiemicroficdecember#steddie microfic#hype's microfics
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the secrets that you keep | for @steddiemicrofic's April prompt: Fool AND for my submission to this month's @steddiesongfics, Talking In Your Sleep by the Romantics!
pairing: steddie (duh) | word count: 454 | rated: M | on AO3
Eddie Munson isn't an idiot.
You can't fool, trick, or cajole him into believing the impossible.
And what he and Steve are doing, have been doing, it's impossible.
Okay, not impossible, seeing as how they have been and it’s been nothing short of amazing. Steve's almost unbearably sweet, the sex is indescribable... but it can't last. No matter what Eddie's feelings are on the matter.
He's known from the beginning that he's nothing but an experiment for the younger man,
“Mhm... Eddie..”
He knows where he stands in the general hierarchy of life, and it ain't higher than his knee.
“....More... please.”
Even now, as he listens to Steve's soft moans and mumbles of some dream he’d be loathe to interrupt and it turns into his usual mumbled nonsense from beside him in bed,
“..Eds…”
Eddie knows that in the end, he'll force his way too big feelings for the pseudo Adonis next to him into the lockbox in the back of his brain,
“..I love you..”
And never think about them again after Steve gets sick of hi—
..what.
Eddie blinks down at Steve's sleeping face. “Steve?”
The golden sun come to Earth has the nerve to smile all soft and syrupy, quirk his lips up on one side, and mumble out another “I love you, Eddie.” clear as fuckin’ day.
Eddies heart is in his throat, its deep in the pit of his stomach, its impaled on the icy crags in his heels
“Steve?”
"...waffles.."
"Steve?!"
His last cry finally wakes the other man, the comforter whisking off Eddie's naked lower half as Steve whirls off the mattress, his bat at the ready.
Stark naked himself, standing firm between Eddie and the bedroom door with his head on a swivel, Steve slurs out a still sleepy "What happened, what'd you hear, what's wrong?”
Eddie's traitorous heart makes it hard to say anything, but he manages to whisper, “You love me?”
It takes him a handful of seconds, but eventually Steve turns back to face the bed, much more awake than he had been.
“I do?” Eddie’s face must’ve twisted up at the questioning tone because he corrects course, “I mean, I do.. but how’d you know that? Did Robin say something?”
He starts to pace; quite the sight, him being bare as the day he was born with his bat still hanging from his fist, “I knew I shouldn’t’ve told her something that big (“Steve..”), but how could I not? I tell her everything (“Steve.”). But she promised not to say anything to you and now–
“Steve!”
Steve finally stops pacing, though he’s still avoiding Eddie’s gaze.
“Look at me.” and when he does, Eddie smiles and says, “I love you too.”
#steddie microfic#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington x eddie munson#eddie munson x steve harrington#eddeve#steveddie#st#st ficlet#steddie ficlet#stranger things#noelle writes
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Imagine: Steve comes out of the back and into the break room of Scoops Ahoy. He goes over to Robin's board and makes eye contact with her as he makes a mark under the "You Suck" side. Eddie comes out from the back, walks through the break room towards the parlor, and runs right into the door before scrambling to open it. His face was red, and he looked like he had a hanger in his mouth. He waved at Steve before leaving quickly.
"I definitely do," Steve said and winked at Robin before blowing air into his hat, plopping it back on his head. "I suck so much!"
#stranger things#eddie munson#stranger things s4#steve harrington#joseph quinn#eddie stranger things#eddie munson lives#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#bisexual steve harrington#bisexual eddie munson#robin buckley#lesbian robin buckley#robin & steve#platonic stobin#steddie imagine#steddie microfic#rueleigh's thoughts
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𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞
steve harrington/eddie munson
for @steddiemicrofic's january prompt: hole, 404 words.
ft. flirting, sexual innuendo | T rating
read on ao3
“That’s just perfect.”
Steve stares at his rapidly flattening tire, and the culprit just behind the car. He loosens his tie, irritated.
It’s not that Steve can’t change a tire—he doesn’t have a spare.
Robin’s house is a couple of streets over. Sighing, he begins the walk there to call his mechanic.
“No answer,” Steve announces dejectedly as he walks back into Robin’s livingroom and flops down in her armchair, huffing.
The dramatics are a little much, but Robin bites her tongue. No need to kick the man while he’s down (not a rule she always conforms to).
“I know a guy who could help,” she says instead. “My cousin’s friend.”
Steve perks up. “Is he good?”
Robin bites her tongue again, this time fighting a grin. “Oh, he’s somethin’.”
Thirty minutes later, there’s a mechanic named Eddie in her livingroom. Steve supposes he looks exactly as expected—grey coveralls, arm tattoos, hands stained but washed (Steve knows, he shook one, with the hand that wasn’t clutching a cup of tea).
However, Eddie also has long hair tied in a loose bun, and the warmest smile. It lights up his eyes and Steve barely knows where to look.
Robin’s in the kitchen doorway, both hands on her own tea mug.
“So. Popped a tire?” asks Eddie. “How’d that happen?”
“Hole.”
Steve flushes when he hears Robin snort.
Eddie’s grinning from ear-to-ear. “Hole?”
“P-pothole,” Steve clarifies quickly. “I went over a… a big pothole.”
Eddie contemplates that, tongue between his teeth and looking Steve up and down, before he says, “Yeah, it’s amazing what a hole can do to you.”
Steve splutters into his tea. It goes up his nose a little, kind of fucking hurts. Robin barely keeps a lid on her laughter, knowing Steve won’t thank her for it.
“Eddie, you’re gonna kill him. Quit flirting.”
“Sorry! Right. Where’s the car?”
He keeps his comments to himself throughout the tire change, even though he really wants to wind up the cute guy in the nice suit with the nice car.
Steve pays him there and then, cash plus tip, but Eddie rejects the tip.
“Keep that. Since I almost killed you back at the house.”
Steve blushes. “You caught me off-guard.”
Eddie can’t resist. “I tell it like it is! Gotta know your way around a hole or you might blow, big boy.”
There’s no tea this time, but Steve still manages to choke.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steddie fic#steddie microfic#steddiemicrofic#i absolutely give up w the line break thing#anyway i wasn't planning to do this but i did it anyway!!!#happy first steddie to me#read it/comment/whatever on ao3 tho pls pls#fic
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Edge of Seventeen
I'm a little later in the month than I normally am, but here's my February entry for @steddiemicrofic at a T rating. The prompt was "edge" with the word count 509. I know I'm a little behind Valentine's Day, but enjoy!
Their security hated when Steve did this. They always tried to talk him out of it, and the compromise included at least two members of the team standing near him and a few extra joining the venue security on the other side of the barricade. But he loved the feeling of being part of a crowd, of looking up at Eddie just like any other fan.
"And that's what I am," he'd told a reporter at the Oscars last year, Eddie's arm wrapped possessively around his waist. "I mean yeah, he's my husband too, but I'll always be one of the fans." The absolute heart eyes Eddie had sent his way were still making the rounds as a reaction image on social media.
Steve thought he had a similar expression on his face now. He leaned against the barricade, fans pressing in around them. There was a woman practically hanging on his side that reminded him of Robin. Clearly Lawrence on security didn't like that she was touching him, but when Steve had made it clear that he was fine, there wasn't much the guard could do.
"Jeff thinks I'm a sap for this," Eddie continued, practically purring into the mic.
"No, no," Jeff said. "I know you're a sap for this."
The crowd around Steve laughed, then laughed again as Gareth added the slap stick sound on his drums.
"You see what I put up with?" Eddie complained, but his smile never left his face as he flipped off his friends. "Anyway, it's time for my annual tradition. It's the only time of year I let myself be this gooey on stage."
That was absolutely a lie, and Steve was sure the whole crowd knew it. But when Eddie had found him in the crowd and crouched at the edge of the stage to talk right to him, Steve wasn't going to tease him about it. Not right now anyway.
"Happy Valentine's Day, baby," Eddie said. "I gave you a Springsteen last year, which means it's an off year. I get to pick something else, and while I know you were hoping for ABBA, I can't quite give up my metal card that swiftly."
The crowd laughed again, especially since Eddie had serenaded Steve with Take A Chance On Me six years ago. This year, Steve had seen the betting and predictions online. ABBA had been a pretty strong contender.
Eddie continued, "I figured it was time for a badass lady I haven't sang for you before."
This time the crowd screamed. Steve's smile grew, then grew wider as he recognized the guitar riff of a song he'd convinced Eddie to dance to on New Years Eve. He'd been hoping for some Stevie Nicks.
Apparently so had some of his new friends because the crowd screamed as they placed what it was.
Steve loved his husband's fans and their support. But most of all, loved that they could stand here in a sold out show on either side of the barricade and have a moment just for them.
#steddie#steddie microfic#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#stevie nicks#my writing#my fanfic
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found you | february @steddiemicrofic 🧸
prompt: edge | wc: 509 | rated: g | childhood friends/different first meeting
Steve plops down near the quarry’s edge. He draws scraped knees up to his chest and looks down at the reddened skin, dreading the scolding he’ll receive.
Maybe he’ll just camp out here, he thinks with a sniffle.
He wipes a tear and picks up a pebble, throwing it into the deep pit.
“You probably shouldn’t sit so close.”
Steve startles and shoots upright, coming face to face with the depth below his feet. He screams, scrambling backward into the kid behind him, who reaches out to steady his waist.
Steve turns, wide-eyed, their noses inches away.
The boy releases him and they spring apart as if burned.
“Sorry,” Steve says, cheeks aflame, eyes cast downward.
He blinks, surprised by the pristine condition of the kid’s sneakers.
“Old toothbrush.”
Steve looks up, brows furrowed. “What?”
“I use an old toothbrush. Makes ‘em look like new,” the boy says proudly.
Steve scrutinizes him. The unfortunate buzzcut, the missing front tooth. The Johnny Cash tee, mismatched with an oversized maroon flannel.
“S’not mine,” the boy grumbles, noticing Steve’s staring. “But Wayne said we’ll go thrifting tomorrow.”
“Wayne?”
“My uncle,” the boy explains, “My name’s Eddie.”
Steve cocks a brow. “I’ve never seen you before. You go to Hawkins?”
Eddie shrinks, visibly embarrassed.
Guilt prickles hotly at the nape of Steve’s neck.
“I will, yeah. Next week,” Eddie mumbles, kicking dirt, “Moved into the trailer park nearby. Hate it here, s'nothing like Tennessee.”
“Why’d your family move?”
“Only me. Dad’s in the slammer. Ma, she’s… um. She’s…” Eddie trails off, nervous. He shuffles closer toward his parked bike.
Steve panics. “Hey, don’t go. Please.”
Eddie eyes him warily.
“I’m Steve, by the way.”
“Hello Steve,” Eddie says sheepishly. “Why are you out here all alone?”
“I rode into a bush while I was looking for Tommy. He was supposed to meet me here, but the dummy forgot,” Steve grumbles, annoyed.
Eddie tilts his head, eyes glittering with mischief. “Maybe you were supposed to meet me instead.”
It startles a laugh out of Steve. “What— I don’t even know you!”
“You know my name is Eddie, and that I’m from Tennessee,” he offers.
“And that you live with your uncle Wayne,” Steve adds, giggling.
“Wanna swing by? He’s making chili. Plus we got lotsa bandaids,” Eddie adds, pointedly eyeing Steve’s scrapes.
Steve turns toward the quarry, considering. He eyes the path, as if Tommy will magically appear.
He won’t, Steve knows he won’t.
He grabs his bike handles and Eddie grins.
Steve follows closely behind, something akin to butterflies stirring deep in his gut.
He may not have found Tommy that day, but he found a new friend in Eddie.
He made a promise to stay by Eddie’s side ever since, not even questioning his innocence all these years later as Steve leads a very frantic Dustin, a weary Max and a jittery Robin to the quarry’s edge.
Eddie turns, smiling despite his nerves. “You found me,” he whispers.
Steve surges forward, enveloping his boyfriend in his arms. “Always will, Eds. Always will.”
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Hands. Who knew?
@steddiemicrofic written for the prompt: "edge" | rating: G | wc: 509 | cw: none
It catches him off-guard when it happens. Eddie has never really thought too much about hands. Sure, he likes how his own hands look covered in silver and he knows the effect dramatically steepled hands can have when prompting a party of adventurers on their next move in the face of danger. He's also had a girl here or there look a little too long at his hands from the edge of what the Hideout counts as a stage while he had been shredding his heart out; comparing their hand sizes afterwards in a move that always worked on him more for its boldness than the hand thing itself. His hands are just... part of him. An important part, for sure, they're what he uses to write and draw and play guitar until his fingers bleed but also a part he has never consciously wasted a thought on.
So he isn't ready for the way it makes him feel to have Steve push the palms of their hands together to compare while still talking about... something. Basketball, maybe. Something about holding balls? In the back of his mind there is a voice telling Eddie to make a joke but he can't make the thoughts connect. Eddie's hands aren't small by any means but Steve's are bigger. His fingers longer. They're peeking out from behind Eddie's. Thicker too. His whole palm wider. Radiating heat.
And while Eddie is still grappling with that view and the thoughts that follow, Steve continues to manipulate his hand whichever way strikes his fancy. Looking at his rings, tapping them one by one in a rhythm that makes sense only to him. Following the last one with his own finger while turning the whole hand so the palm faces upwards. He starts tracing the lines there - softly, so softly - following the outline of Eddie's fingers with the edge of his fingernail. Had Eddie's hands always been this sensitive? The threat of a shiver begins building at the back of his neck. Steve starts paying special attention to the calluses at Eddie's fingertips, tapping his own fingertips against them.
Eddie only becomes aware that Steve had fallen silent when he starts speaking again, "You know... I used to be good at this... knowing if someone was into me." Tap tap tap. A self-deprecating laugh, "or not into me, that's been happening a lot..."
A few more soft taps, like he's steeling himself for something, a determined look on his face though his gaze remains locked on their hands.
"But with you, I... I don't know. I can't imagine, like, platonically holding my buddy's hand. But everything you do is so out of the ordinary to me. Maybe you do?" Everything seems far away except for the heat of Steve's hands on his and his words echoing in Eddie's head.
"...Fuck it." Steve wraps his fingers under Eddie's, his thumb on top and makes devastating world-shattering eye contact while he presses the softest kiss onto Eddie's knuckles.
"Are you? Into me? Because I'm so very into you."
#this got away from me i'm not gonna lie#steddie#steddie microfic#prompt: edge#steddie fic#eddie munson#steve harrington#hey i'm talkin' here#i should probably invest in an actual writing tag#steddiemicroficfebruary#why is this so nerve-wracking
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Happy DM Day or something
Happy GM Day to our favorite Dungeon Master and anyone who ever had the honor of leading a party into their demise
@steddiemicrofic "pin" | T | 388 | getting together, transfem Stevie | continuation to of swords and holes | now w part 3!
Once he accepts the earrings, it’s like the floodgates have opened.
He hadn't even noticed them at first, they were small enough things to look over. Bringing him coffee to work, his favorite snacks for the movie night, a shirt she “found in the back of a closet”.
It didn't hit him until the beginning of March.
“Munson! Catch!”
He doesn’t, of course, but the small object lands harmlessly in his lap.
“What’s that?”
“A gift,” Stevie answers with a shrug. “Happy DM day or something.”
“A what day?” he asks confused, and turns the little thing, a pin, over to take a look.
Beware the smiling DM.
“Oh my gods.”
“Do you like it?”
“Like it?” He looks up at the girl with enough audacity to ask stupid questions. His favorite, beloved bimbo. “Sweetie, darling, I love it,” he says reverently, pressing the badge into his heart. He stands up from the couch and reaches for Stevie’s hand.
“Pin it for me?”
It’s a small gesture, and completely unnecessary, but when she attaches the badge to his battle vest, becoming a part of it, it feels like a religious experience.
“What’s the occasion again?” he asks when her hands are on his chest and her lips are slightly pursed in concentration.
“Dungeon Master Day.”
The pin is secured but she’s not stepping away.
“You gave me a gift for a nerdy holiday,” he clarifies.
“Yes?”
“A holiday I didn’t even know about?”
She looks away while her cheeks turn pink.
“Well, I had to google it, so…”
“Girlie.” He puts his hands on her cheeks and squishes them gently. “Did you google nerdy holidays, just for an excuse to give me something?”
“Well, Dustin told me about Star Wars Day, so I figured–”
“Can I kiss you?”
She closes her mouth with a click and frowns.
“Like a friend?”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
He presses in and pulls her close into a lingering kiss.
“Sweetest, prettiest, loveliest thing,” he murmurs while kissing every inch of her face. Stevie giggles and squirms in his hold with delight in her eyes.
“I also have a Tupperware of D20 cookies.”
Eddie dives back into her mouth and kisses her until there’s no air left between them.
“Fucking,” he gasps for air, pulling away only to wrap her impossibly close. “Marry me.”
#steddie#mine#steddie microfic#steddie microfic march#stevie#steve harrington#stranger things#eddie munson#transfem stevie harrington#transfem stevie#stevie harrington#trans steve harrington#transfeminine steve harrington#transfem steve harrington#st#ff#stranger things 4#steddie fanfiction#microfic
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