Yellow

@steddiemicrofic December prompt: pine | wc: 508 | G | cw: none | tags: misunderstandings, pre-Steddie

“Looking good, Nance. Did you do something with your hair?” Nancy did not. She knew for a fact her curls looked worse for wear thanks to the raging wind outside. Steve knew that, too – had to, with his in-depth knowledge of maintaining hair, curls or not. Eddie stiffens next to her. “I’m here to return this,” Nancy pulls out a Breakfast Club tape from her bag with a forced smile. “Great movie choice,” Steve trudges on with otherwise admirable perseverance. The ugly green Family Video creases inelegantly as he leans forward. “I think it sucks,” Eddie jumps in. He grins but Nancy knows him well enough to tell how tense he really is. And isn’t that a wild thought in itself? Nancy would never expect to get along so well with Eddie Munson and yet here he was, dare she say it - her best friend at the moment. Steve lets out a nervous laugh, red dotting his cheeks as his hand ventures out to rub his neck. Robin’s bright eyes keep darting back and forth between two boys, an unreadable look on her face. “This is getting ridiculous,” Nancy says once she slips into the driver seat of her car. Eddie joins her on the other side, uncharacteristically quiet. Her eyebrows drop lower. “He’ll get over it soon. You’ll see.” “I don’t know, Wheeler. He seems pretty dedicated.” The thing is, Nancy’s observant. She pays attention to her close circle of friends, and that includes Steve. Something about this isn’t adding up – the compliments, the showering with attention. And it’s not only because she’s usually left with a morose Eddie, unfairly pining away, in the aftermath. It’s been going on for weeks now. Something’s got to give, eventually, she’s sure. It does, a week later, when Steve Harrington knocks on the Wheelers’ front door in the middle of the day, clad in an ironed shirt and beige khakis. “Here,” he hands her a bouquet of yellow roses. “They’re for you.” She makes a point of not taking them. They hang awkwardly between them until Steve drops his hand with a grimace. “We’re not getting back together,” Nancy tells him bluntly. Steve’s a good guy, he is, but he can be a bit obtuse sometimes. To her surprise, Steve doesn’t deter her. Instead, he blinks. “What?” “It’s sweet that you’re trying,” she tries. “But we wouldn’t work out. We just wouldn’t.” He blinks again. “I don’t-uh. This is awkward.” Understatement if she’s ever seen one. “I don’t want to date you, Nancy,” Steve finally says. He winces before adding. “No offense.” “Then what’s with this?” she points to the flowers. “The compliments? All of it?” He sighs. “I know we didn’t really end on good terms. And your opinion matters to him- I mean, he's just so-” “Him?” Nancy questions before realization dawns on her. “Eddie?” “Wait, does he think I – shit!” Steve’s eyes grow wide as he shoves the flowers into Nancy’s chest and backs out towards the car. “Shit! Sorry, Nance. Gotta go!”

Yellow Roses are the symbol of friendship <3

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 microfic: I got you

Steve loves it when Eddie rubs his chest.

Written for the December @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘pine,’ 508 words. Originally inspired by the ‘pining’ idea, then it evolved and some extra pine turned up elsewhere!

Rating: T. CW: A couple of sexual references. Tags: shameless hurt/comfort, sickfic, fluff.

***

Their first winter, Eddie got sick. Then Steve got sicker. He took to their bed with a cough that scoured his lungs, rattled his ribs. When Eddie arrived, Steve buried his damp face in the pillow. “I’m all gross. G-go away.”

“Sorry, Babe.” Eddie rolled Steve over, fingers skittering soothingly across his brow. “Kinda guilty here. You scored my germs.”

“Always g-got chest infections as a kid.” Steve shivered. “Ask my m-mom.”

“She won’t talk to me, remember?”

“Ugh. Why are my f-family shitheads?” The pang of irritation proved too much. Steve’s next breath jammed in his lungs. A coughing fit consumed him. Eddie helped him sit, rubbed his back till the worst passed. Then Eddie removed his rings—huh?—pulled the covers over them, and spooned Steve from behind.

His warm hand slid under Steve’s t-shirt. He rubbed Steve’s chest, so gently Steve hardly noticed at first.

“I gotcha, Sweetheart. I gothcha.”

Steve’s shuddering breaths fell in sync with Eddie’s caresses, beneath which painfully taut sinews softened. Steve’s chest still burned, his breaths wheezy, but… 

…Eddie’s touch got him, somewhere so deep it almost choked him again.

It became a regular thing, in sickness and health. Eddie’s guitar-string callused strokes across Steve’s chest—sometimes firm, sometimes soft—set Steve sighing, groaning, purring like a cat. He even adored the cool slide of Eddie’s rings, especially when they snagged in his hair.

One day, afterward, he littered Eddie’s agile fingers with kisses. “Wanna marry your hands.”

Eddie quirked a brow: “You got a mighty fine chest, Babe.”

Steve grinned, sent his own hands south on a far dirtier mission.

Next winter, Eddie scored a touring gig with a band who’d lost their guitarist. Steve missed him like crazy, ignored that tell-tale tickle in his throat, and went to work—peddling hotdogs in the snow. Eddie called daily around 3am, always losing track of time. Steve mainlined cough medicine and pretended so hard:

“I don’t miss your mess, man. I cleaned the shit out of this place—totally reeks of Pine-Sol.”

“Haha. Miss you too, Stevie.”

“Riiight. If you blow the drummer, I’ll repave the drive with your vinyl collection.”

Steve got sicker. The pine stench of the stupid polish caught on his chest. He coughed himself raw. That night, Eddie didn’t call.

Or, Steve didn’t hear.

When he woke, he tried to sit. Flopped back down. He was shivering, out of water, and coughed till tears streaked his face and blood spattered his hand. Scared now... He drifted, never quite sleeping, coughing less, instead struggling to drag whistling breaths. His bones ached. His head ached worse. Freakin’ terrified…

A gentle touch revived him: “Babe?”

He blinked. Eddie? 

“You didn’t answer last night. Caught the first flight home.” Seriously? “Do I need to take you to ER?”

“No,” wheezed Steve.

“Don’t be macho, dude.”

“Need c-cuddle.” That ‘not macho’ enough, Honeypie? 

Steve was too sick for decisions, so let Eddie make them. Much later, when Eddie slid into bed behind him and rested a warm hand on his chest, he knew he was mending already.

***

Thank you for reading :) Also posted on my AO3 here

angel

(i bring u the usual girl dinner chubby steve but this time in steve POV - for the festive goblin season :3c)

for the December @steddiemicrofic prompt 'pine' !

wc: 508 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: chubby steve, pre relationship, mutual pining

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

The big, old, ugly porcelain faced angel is almost in the perfect spot atop the tree, if only the box he’s on was a little taller. Steve reaches his arms higher, feels his shirt ride up but he almost has it. Just has to stretch a little further.

Finally getting the angel in place, Steve grunts as the breath he was holding is released. ‘Perfect’ he pants. 

He expects some fan fare, or at least to distract Eddie enough from his light detangling to earn some kind of reaction. But bellow him is silent. 

Steve looks down and Eddie is sitting motionless, hands wrapped in Christmas lights, which look more tangled than when he started.

Eddie’s staring, but not at his face. Steve glances down at himself, noticing that his shirt is still hiked up from stretching. A sliver of his belly exposed, sitting new and soft and prominent above the waistband of his jeans. 

His cheeks warm, ‘ah.’ He readjusts himself, tuning away from Eddie to step down onto the floor. 

See, Steve knows he’s gained weight, because he had to get these jeans in a bigger size. 

But, thing is, he likes it, makes him feel sturdy, more himself. His legs are thicker but feel strong, same as his arms, his chest. A little voice in his brain likes saying that maybe he feels more protected, his body more of a shield. 

Plus, he thinks his ass looks great.

But, just because he likes it, doesn’t mean Eddie wants to see all that. Steve pulls at his shirt again, touches his hair. 

‘Uh, what d’you think?’ he asks, trying to break the tension. Eddie’s still staring, mouth slightly open. 

‘Looks really good.’ Eddie says, voice rough and serious considering it’s about an ugly angel Robin found at Good Will. Steve huffs. 

‘I mean it.’ Eddie stands and looks right at Steve. ‘Looks really really good.’ Steve watches Eddie swallow thickly and reach to place a gentle hand on Steve’s thicker waist. 

Oh. 

Steve’s heart rate increases, he stifles a grin. Steps closer, tentative. But relishes in the blush that blooms over Eddie’s features, the way his eyes widen. ‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah.’ Eddie whispers. 

Steve’s stomach brushes up against Eddie’s flat one and he almost misses the little squeak Eddie lets out. 

Steve moves his hand up slow, notes the flutter of Eddie’s eyelashes. He pulls a pine needle from Eddie’s curls, flattening the displaced wisps back down. 

‘That’s better.’ Steve murmurs, holding the bit of green up for Eddie to see. 

Eddie glances at it, looks back at Steve. Eddie’s eyes dip down to Steve’s mouth. Steve swallows, leans in a little further. Feels Eddie’s breath fan over his face, Eddie’s other hand on his hip.

Steve lets the needle fall and cups Eddie’s neck. Fingers brushing the soft skin of his nape, thumb stroking lightly along his jaw. Eddie’s pupils are blown wide. 

‘Boo! Gross!’ Robin heckles from the doorway. 

Eddie’s head whips around. ‘Shut. Up.’ He hisses and Steve laughs, big and real and happy.

pine avenue

for @steddiemicrofic december prompt 'pine' wc: 508 rated: t cw: mention of minor background character's deaths tags: light angst, happy ending, teacher steve, future fic (barely), eddie is so in love with steve he buys him a whole house

🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡

The house on Pine Avenue was the only place Steve ever felt happy. His grandparents made sure he felt loved, and cared for, and special, unlike anything he ever felt when he was home.

It wasn't big, but the yard was. He was never really allowed to play outside at home unless it was in the pool, where he couldn't get dirty. But here, his Grampy let him run in the grass before he mowed it, pick the wildflowers so he could bring a bouquet inside to his Grammy to make her smile, play in the puddles that collected in the gravel driveway after an afternoon storm.

He got to sit out on the porch and help his Grammy peel potatoes for a soup that she always made two pots of, one for them and one for the soup kitchen in town.

His parents were gone for the summer, and he was too young to stay alone for more than a week at a time, so he got to be a kid with them.

It was the best part of his childhood.

His Grampy died right before Christmas when he was 11. His parents were stoic, somehow distant from something that hurt Steve like a bullet wound to the chest. They traveled all the way to Pine Avenue for his funeral, his insistence in being buried in the woods of their property the only reason they bothered to make the trip.

On Steve's 13th birthday, his Grammy died. She'd been sick for nearly a year and hadn't told anyone, didn't want anyone to take her from her home, from the love of her life buried in the dirt nearly a half a mile from the house.

The house on Pine Avenue went up for sale, his parents not wanting to deal with upkeep or renters.

Steve's only reminder of his time there was the family album his Grammy kept on the bookcase in the living room full of their times together every summer.

When Steve is 23, he graduates from college with a teaching degree and quickly finds that he doesn't want to stay in Hawkins.

Eddie just smiles and agrees, like he'd been waiting for Steve to come to the conclusion himself.

They search high and low for teaching jobs in the city, try not to be too upset when the only ones available are the lowest paying ones.

Then Steve sees a listing for the house on Pine Avenue.

Tears fall as he realizes that the previous owners never touched it, barely even lived in it. It was the same as it was when he was little.

Eddie sees it circled later that night.

He finds a job listing for a gym teacher in the area only a few days later.

Eddie takes a risk, uses up every cent of his savings to put an offer on the house. Knows this is important.

Steve moves into the house on Pine Avenue with the love of his life when he's 24, and he feels happier than ever.

new

Late entry for @steddiemicrofic December prompt: pine, and for @steddieholidaydrabbles December 31 prompt: New Year's Eve/Resolution | wc: 508 | G | pre-steddie |

Eddie looked around him and took a deep breath.

Another year had come and gone, and he'd made it.

There in the woods, scattered around a fire among the people that mattered the most to Eddie, it really hit him. All at once. That warmth in his chest, the sting behind his eyes, the pull of the corners of his mouth. He was relieved - happy, he thought, gripping his beer can too tightly. The pop made him jump, which made Jeff jump and yelp beside him.

"Scared the shit out of me, man!"

Eddie laughed.

Jeff nodded toward the cabin's porch where Eddie saw Robin and Steve making sloppy light designs with sparklers, wiping tears from their eyes because they were laughing so hard.

"I never would've thought that he was such a...." Jeff stopped, getting caught on the right word.

"Lame dork with a heart of gold?" Eddie supplied.

Jeff's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, sure. Robin had it right: he's a dingus. He just genuinely doesn't care, does he?"

Eddie shook his head, eyes glued to the Steve and Robin goofing around. He caught Steve's eye and they smiled at each other.

"You know," Jeff's voice softer. "I know somebody else who doesn't care," he said with a nudge.

Eddie's smile lingered a little longer, then faded as he cast his eyes down and played with the tab on his can. "I care."

"I know," Jeff conceded, understanding, then grinned to himself when he saw Steve look over at Eddie again. Robin disappeared inside the cabin. "New year, new possibilities. You should get a sparkler. You're starting to give this tree over here a run for its money."

Eddie snapped his head up, confused. "What?"

"Pine. It's a pine tree, and you're pining. You know, identify theft is not a jo-"

"Jesus Christ, stop," Eddie shoved him with a laugh. "Fine."

Nineteen steps brought him to the porch, under the glow of the strung Christmas lights and a grinning Steve, who said. "Hi."

"Hi," Eddie breathed out.

The sparklers had made the air smokey, filling it with color from the shining Christmas lights. Red, yellow, green, and blue bloomed and swirled in the smoke, bathing Steve in color and light, and Eddie lost every train of thought he'd ever had.

"Can I use your light?" Steve asked after a few moments, his face kind.

"Yeah," Eddie said after a beat, patting his pockets, then reached up behind Steve's ear, conjuring up the lighter.

Steve's eyes went wide, and he barked a laugh. "Did you just do a magic trick?"

Eddie blushed hard. "No," he lied. Why would he do that? "Why would I do that?"

Steve laughed, bright and colorful in a way that had nothing to do with the lights. "I'm not complaining. I already thought you were magic, but...." Steve shrugged with a smile that Eddie couldn't help but mirror, Christmas lights dancing in their eyes. "...proof."

For Eddie, 1987 started within a cloud of color-soaked smoke, with a boy that would become his. Soon.

the thing about being known

A little love letter to online friendship - but make it steddie 😉💜

And written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘pine’

wc: 508 | rated: G tags: modern au, online friendship, strangers to friends to lovers | cw: none

[AO3 link]

"You should try getting some other friends," that's what Robin told him. And at first, he wanted to be disgruntled, sad and upset that his best friend seemingly wanted to get rid of him.

But then she explained, "I can't be the only person you're able to open up to. I love you, dingus, but you need to try and be honest with other people too. What'll you do after a shit date when I'm not available?"

She paused, gasping, "Or worse, when we get into a fight?"

So, Steve tried the opening up and being trusting and honest thing. He did it for Robin, because she was right, he couldn't keep going to her with all his failed date stories and neither his ex, nor his ex's new boyfriend, or his kid friends were an option, and therefore she's the reason he found himself in his current suboptimal situation.

He'd wanted to try it in a somewhat safe space first. And, against his expectations, he felt an instant connection with someone he met online. They started talking about general topics first, exchanged a few messages and stories. Then there was an opening in the conversation to be honest and reveal something deeper. Steve took the chance.

He opened up.

His new friend met him there, talking about a similar experience on their own, making it so easy to reveal more and more, their messages getting more frequent, topics ranging from secrets, over failed and halfway successful dates, to telling each other about their lunch.

Until Steve realized it. He wanted to tell them everything, all the time. He was pinning for this person, and he didn't even know their name.

---

For once, Steve had a good date. A really good one. He'd matched with the guy, cute and intriguing, on a dating app, exchanged a few messages and, with his online friend's encouragement, had asked to meet up for early drinks.

The guy was even cuter in person, Steve couldn't stop staring, instantly enamored with his expressive eyes, his wild hair, his cute dimples whenever he laughed. They talked and talked, about everything and nothing, and it felt so easy too. There was this connection Steve had been searching for in every date he's gone to.

They transitioned from drinks to dinner, started to hold hands under the table while waiting for dessert, and shared their first kiss with lips still sweet.

It was perfect. Steve needed to tell his friend.

He excused himself, after another kiss to the cheek, and started typing as soon as he was out if sight, hoping to get an answer before heading back.

this guy is perfect! i think i'm already in love with him.

He thought he'd seen the indicator of his friends typing but didn't get an answer until he couldn't stall any longer, despite being a little disappointed.

But all was forgotten when he got back to the table, his date's attention and smile focused on him.

"I think I'm already in love with you too," Eddie said.

(Here's Eddie's POV)

Preview

@steddiemicrofic

written for ‘Pine’ | wc: 508 | rated: T Kind of a time travel fic, kind of a future fic. Established relationship, but also not. With a whiff of mutual pining.

Eddie is cold. He’s so fucking cold, clutched in Henderson’s arms. 

And then he isn’t. 

He’s hot, dripping sweat instead of blood. Standing, feet aching like he’s been on them all day. Everything is light and heat and noise, the clanging of metal and the sizzle and smell of things cooking, people bustling. He sways on his feet, and—

“You okay, chef?”

It’s too much. Eddie’s eyes roll back, gone before he even falls.

He wakes in a soft bed, softer than he’s ever felt in his entire life. It smells of pine-scented laundry detergent, weed smoke, and comfort. 

“Eds?” Steve Harrington leans over him with concern and relief in his eyes, and something warm that chases the last of the cold from Eddie’s blood. He’s clasping Eddie’s hand in both of his.

Something’s off, though. Steve looks . . . older. And damn good in glasses, but since when did Steve Harrington need glasses?

“You passed out at work, babe.”

Babe.

Babe.

“King Steve holding my hand,” Eddie mumbles. “I’m either dreaming or dead.”

“. . . Oh.” Steve’s grip tightens, reminding Eddie that, oh yeah, he can hear him. Maybe not a dream, if he doesn’t get to have his privacy when thinking out loud. “Okay, so this is happening. Uh. . . . What year do you think it is?”

Eddie frowns. It’s 1986, but. . . . When he looks down at himself there are scars and unfamiliar tattoos and, weirdly, a distinct lack of one nipple on his own chest. Why is he shirtless?

His silence seems answer enough, because Steve nods. “Okay. You told me this was going to happen, just weren’t sure when. The last thing you remember is the Upside Down, right? Bats?”

The bats. Eddie shudders with his entire body. 

“Okay,” Steve says again, smoothing his thumbs over the knuckles and palm of Eddie’s hand. “You’re going to be fine, Eds. This is just a blip.” He offers an awkward smile. “But you’re going to go back, and it’s going to really hurt for a while but you’re going to be fine. Just do your stretches, I remember how much you hated that shit but it’s important.”

Eddie can’t wrap his head around what Steve is saying. His voice is small when he asks, “Will I still be able to play?”

The smile firms up, genuine. “Yeah. Not quite as good as before, we all know how important your left nipple was for that, but. You have guitars all over the damn place, really clutters up our apartment.”

“Our?” Eddie croaks. 

Another squeeze of his hand. “Yeah. Don’t leave me hanging too long when you get back, okay?”

He wants to ask more, but sleep is tugging at him and the bed is so soft. 

He wakes up in a hospital bed, and the Steve Harrington he knows is asleep in the visitor’s chair, hand on the sheet next to Eddie’s. 

And Eddie, not wanting to leave him hanging, breathes through the pain as he reaches to hold it.

(also on Ao3)

Steddie Microfic

December prompt: pine

Word count: 508

No warnings apply

Rated T

@steddiemicrofic

Steve has a problem.

It’s not a major problem, not really. It’s not Vecna again. Not even close.

It’s Eddie.

After the gates closed for the final time, Steve and Eddie had gotten along in a way that had far surpassed Dustin’s expectations, and then some.

For the past five months, Steve has been overjoyed to call Eddie his boyfriend.

A boyfriend who hasn’t stepped foot in Steve’s house since November changed into December and he broke the Christmas decorations out.

Steve had been over to Eddie’s multiple times, which isn’t a problem, per se, but, well…

Steve and Eddie are both healthy young men with certain needs that arise occasionally. And they can’t do anything half the time because Wayne’s home, and none of them want that.

And of course, Steve could always go home and do it himself, but it’s not the same. He’s not touched his boyfriend below the belt in over ten days and he thinks he’s going through withdrawal.

“You’re not going through withdrawal, you’re horny and pining,” Robin says flatly. Steve squawks at her.

He keeps trying to figure it out, is the thing. He wonders if Eddie is secretly a grinch, but no, his boyfriend loves Christmas more than he does.

Maybe it’s the rich-person decorations, but that’s never stopped Eddie from coming over before. And besides, Steve had explained that none of the decorations were his, but his parents’, and just what he had, and Eddie had seemed to understand. He’d come over no problem… before Steve put up the decorations.

It has to be something, he knows, so he goes home and looks around. Wreath on the front door, Christmas tree in the living room, garland on the stairs, lights in the kitchen… it’s nothing that Eddie doesn’t have too—besides the garland on the stairs—but he can’t see Eddie getting upset about that. Certainly not enough to where he’d refuse to come over.

Steve finally, reluctantly realizes Robin’s right. He needs to talk to Eddie, so he drives over before he has the chance to lose his nerve. “Eddie?”

“Stevie!” Eddie brightens almost comically and pulls him inside before kissing him. “Hey, baby.” He pulls back and must see something on Steve’s face because suddenly he looks worried. “What’s wrong?”

Steve worries his lip and blurts out, “Did I do something?”

Eddie’s face drops. “Sweetheart, no, what- what’s happening? What’re you thinking?” He leads Steve over to the couch and sits with him.

Steve shrugs miserably. “I’m being stupid,” he mutters.

“Honey,” Eddie says seriously, “you’re not stupid. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“You won’t come over.” Steve looks down at their intertwined hands. “Ever since I put up Christmas decorations. You came over once, cut it short, and haven’t come over again. So I must’ve done something.”

“Oh, babylove,” Eddie sighs. “No, you didn’t do anything. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you. I don’t know why I haven’t yet.” He looks down, then back up. “I’m allergic to pine, baby. And you have a real tree.”

Krampusnacht? More Like Krampus-Rocked

For @steddiemicrofic December's prompt: pine. 508 Words || Explicit || Tag it Monsterfucker Steve, BDSM, Spanking It was December, and there was a monster in Steve's bedroom.

Not a demogorgon, not a demoanything.

Something else. Something with cloven hooves and horns. Something that smirked with sharp teeth when Steve relaxed enough to talk, to—shit—to flirt.

He—Eddie apparently—hadn't come for Steve. He'd intended to visit Steve's parents, but some wires had gotten crossed in the magical lines of the universe. So Eddie didn't know Steve's parents had been gone for years, that at that point, Steve was basically acting as caretaker for their future retirement home.

"Is that pine?" Steve asked, staring at the long, wispy rod in Eddie's clawed hand.

"Birch." Eddie thwacked it gently into his opposite palm and then smirked. "Would you like to feel it?"

Something about the look in Eddie's eyes and his low tone of voice went right to Steve's cock. It was fucked up, wasn't it? To start flirting with an intruder, especially when that intruder was…

"Like, hold it?" Steve asked, voice weak as he stared at the apex of Eddie's furry thighs, at the thin scrap of rags he wore there and the obvious tent beneath.

"Or…" Eddie licked his teeth and offered an outstretched hand. "Other things."

Like snow, Steve found himself gently falling, bending over the side of his bed. Eddie's claws skimmed his hips as he worked Steve's shorts down.

The first blow was gentle, just enough to feel the impact. More surprise than pain. The second stung a little, like a sunburn just on the edge of a tan.

The third though—that one had Steve moaning, grinding his cock into the side of his mattress.

"Fuck," Eddie said, voice reverent. "Look at you. Dying for it already."

"Guessing this isn't how these things usually go," Steve panted, hips still circling, canting.

"Never even once. Another?"

"Please."

Eddie hit him again. All told, they got in six poetic licks before Steve needed more. Eddie let him peel the rags off, a thick pink-brown cock hiding underneath, pre-come beading at the tip.

Starving for it, Steve dragged his tongue through the deep slit, palming himself at the low growl it pulled out of Eddie.

"That's enough," Eddie said.

"What?"

"Oh I want you to, don't get me wrong. But I want to fuck it into your pert little ass even more."

Steve's exhale stuttered out of his throat. "Okay."

It was its own kind of torture, Eddie eating him out and fingering him until he could actually fit inside. It was worth it for the stretch of fullness, for the way each thrust hit true.

It was worth it, too, for Eddie's claws raking his skin. For each slap on already-tender flesh as they groaned like two animals instead of one.

They finished seconds apart, Eddie filling him with so much come that it overflowed, dripping off his balls.

After, they lay panting side-by-side, fingers intertwined.

"That was…" Steve turned his head. "You could come back, you know… if… if you…?"

Eddie smiled, teeth sharp and shiny. "Sweet Stevie baby, I'll move in tomorrow."

Magnificent – Steddie Flashfic – G

A/N: Sliding in just under the wire with this one. Had the idea was back at the beginning of Dec, but haven’t had the time to write it until now! Don’t forget to check out all the other great fics at @steddiemicrofic too💖.

Written for prompt: PINE | wc: 508 | G | cw: none

The casket looked magnificent. Dark oak encased in rusted iron. And Eddie, lying inside on red satin, arms crossed over his chest, like the rock god he had always wanted to be.

It was perfect.

It was a shame it was all smoke and mirrors.

The casket was actually cheap pine and particle board, the satin was polyester, and if Eddie moved too much the whole thing was likely to fall apart. Steve had watched with amusement as his boyfriend had had to be helped into it earlier so nothing fell off. The illusion was very good. The structure was not.

Corroded Coffin was about to release their first album. They’d already had two chart topping singles and their record company had moved up the release of the album to catch the unexpected hype they were getting. Of course, this meant cover art.

They’d already done the shoot with the whole band around the coffin as Eddie ‘rose’ from the grave for the front. The much more sedate image for the back with Eddie ‘lying in state’ was the last thing needed.

“And that’s a wrap,” Jonathan called finally.

After everything with the Upside Down, Jonathan had ditched the investigative photographer idea for more fashion and art, so of course, when they needed a photographer for the project, the band had called him. The Hawkins gang stuck together.

Steve stood up from where he was sitting out of the way behind the camera and headed towards the coffin to help his boyfriend out of it. He’d never imagined ending up a general organiser for a band, but when Corroded Coffin has gone on their first small tour, it turned out babysitting a band was pretty much like babysitting teenagers. He’d tagged along for fun, but these days he went with the band everywhere and made sure they did things like eat and sleep and got to their appointments.

It was as the rest of the guys milled around that the sound reached him. The tiniest of snores.

“Oh my god,” Gareth said with a laugh, “did Eddie fall asleep?”

“This is gonna be good,” Jeff added, stepping towards the coffin.

“No!” Steve said in a sharp whisper.

“Awwww,” Frank said stepping towards the coffin anyway, “prowtecting little Eddie-kins?”

“The person who wakes him loses all cookie privileges for a month,” Steve hissed.

That stopped them. They even looked shocked. Steve’s cookies were legendary. He might have started using them as bribery.

“You wouldn’t,” Jeff said.

“I would,” Steve replied, walking the rest of the way to where Eddie was very definitely napping. “Look,” he added quietly, letting the tension fall out of his shoulders, “he hasn’t been sleeping. He’s been worried about the album. You know what he’s like. Everyone take lunch and I’ll stay, keep an eye on Eds, and we can deal with clear down later.”

At that, all glee disappeared from the others’ faces.

“Yeah, okay,” Gareth said, much quieter this time.

Steve couldn’t help smiling to himself as everyone crept out of the studio.

Written for the @steddiemicrofic December challenge.

Cooking for Eddie

December Prompt: Pine | Word Count: 508 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Fluff, Cooking, Eddie POV

Eddie is sitting at the counter when Steve slides open the patio door, coming inside with his bowl full of fresh basil and cherry tomatoes he's just harvested from his garden. 

"Look at this!" he shouts, and Eddie looks up to see what Steve's so excited about. 

Steve's holding up a fistful of basil leaves.

"Holy shit, that's a lot of basil," Eddie answers, smiling at him. 

"You want pasta for lunch? I could make pesto if we've got some pine nuts," Steve asks.

That sounds great, so Eddie nods, reaching out to grab one of the small, ripe tomatoes, shining it on his shirt, and popping it directly into his mouth.

"Damn, those are good," Eddie says. There's nothing like homegrown tomatoes, and Steve's gotten damn good at it over the past few years.

Steve decided to try his hand at food blogging a few years ago, just as a way to share his new cooking hobby with their friends, and that somehow spiraled into a mid-life career change. Cooking for Eddie started as a joke, but Eddie supports it fully, because that means he gets to eat really fucking good food, several times a week.

Jonathan taught Steve how to use a fancy camera, and how to set up a little tabletop light box studio to get good pictures. Dustin and Robin helped set up social media accounts and Steve's own website.

It's gone really well.

Steve digs around in the pantry and finally comes up with a sack of pine nuts, shaking them.

Eddie gives him a thumbs up, and gets to work washing the produce, doing what little he can to help.

When it's finished, Eddie watches as Steve puts on his reading glasses, and carefully puts together the plate for pictures. The homemade ravioli, sauced to perfection with the homemade pesto. Steve carefully wipes the edges of the white pasta bowl, making sure there's no imperfections to be seen. Adding a handful of the homegrown tomatoes, a sprinkle of pine nuts, and a garnish of fresh basil. He puts it on a fancy wooden cutting board and sets it in his light box, decorates around the plate with some loose tomatoes and basil, and checks his lighting. 

That's the only drawback to this hobby, they have to wait to eat until Steve is sure he's gotten his perfect photographs.

Eddie watches as he takes several shots, camera shutter clicking with each movement.

"Got it," Steve says, and then he goes back to the stove and fixes them both a plate that's still warm, and hands it over. 

"Thanks, sweetheart," Eddie says, pulling out the chair next to him for Steve to sit down beside him.

Steve does, and they dig in.

"It's so good," Eddie tells him, and Steve waves him off. But Eddie knows that Steve knows he's telling the truth. It's amazing, and fresh, and the perfect lunch made with a crazy amount of love.

Cooking for Eddie is pure love, and Eddie's still in awe that it's all for him.

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

all i want for christmas

prompt: pine (@steddiemicrofic) rated: t word count: 508 notes: this one is part of the future fic series! it stands alone but is set a few years post-everything in 1990 😇

welcome to Day 7 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

Christmas is a nightmare. 

Or– well, getting ready for Christmas is a nightmare. The holiday itself is… fine? Fun. Whatever. 

It’s the shopping and the wrapping and the checking-people-off-the-list and inevitably forgetting someone and having to run back out to the store at the last minute to buy a panic gift and then getting home to realize you actually did buy them something after all, and now you have two presents for them and you have to wait until after the holidays to return one and then forgetting to do that, and then you’re just stuck with the thing and–

And that’s the part that Steve hates.

That, and the fact that he has to spend the week at his parents’ vacation house in the Berkshires, squirming under his dad’s scrutiny while his mom just… lets it all wash over her like nothing’s even wrong. 

At least he has Eddie with him for that part. 

Eddie, who he’s currently dragging out the back door for a “hike” (to sneak a joint just beyond the treeline) because his dad has spent the past hour giving “career advice” (being a complete asshole).

“I don’t need his advice,” Steve says, shoving his hands in his pockets and tucking his chin under the fluffy edge of his scarf as they trudge down the path through the freshly-fallen snow. “I’m a teacher! That’s a fucking career! I know I’ve only been doing it like half a year, but–” He cuts off with a frustrated sound as he gives up on getting the lighter to work and shoves it into Eddie’s gloved hand. “Stupid thing’s broken.”

“Always stealing my lighters,” Eddie says under his breath as he cups his palm around it and lifts the flame to his face. “See? It’s fine.”

Steve lets out a frustrated breath. “It’s not fine.”

“I meant the –” He wiggles the lighter then pockets it, reaching for the joint when Steve passes it over to him after two larger-than-necessary puffs of his own. “But you’re right,” he says. “It’s not fine. He’s being a dick.”

“And he’s being a dick to you, too,” Steve says. He leans back against the ragged trunk of a pine tree and folds his arms over his chest. “Which is way worse.”

Eddie gives him an unreadable smile, tilting his head to the side. “It’s not worse. I can take it.”

Steve feels an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. “You shouldn’t have to, though.”

“If I could put up with it for the both of us, I would.” 

Steve feels a warm flush spread across his face. “Really?”

Eddie nods, taking a step closer and reaching out to wrap his fingers around Steve’s wrist. He tugs until his arms unfold then threads their fingers together and draws Steve’s hands up until they come to rest against his shoulders. He sways forward for a kiss, easy and sweet.

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” he says into the close, warm air between them. “I basically always want you to be happy.”

[also on ao3]

Happy holidays, babies! Your December microfic prompt is:

🎄 pine | 508 words 🎄

give us your pine boughs, your pining boys, your pinewood derby races, leave your pine caskets at home so help me god — feel free to interpret the prompt however you like! submissions should have a title, rating, and any relevant content warnings or tags, and the body of your story should be 508 words exactly when you paste it into wordcounter.net. mods will comment a 🥧 emoji once your post has been verified and added to the queue!

- wynn ⛄️

A Guiding Light on a Winter Night

written for ‘pine’ wc: #508 | rated: T | cw: General Depictions of Anxiety | tags: Established Relationship, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug

A/N: Thank you to @steddiemicrofic for creating this writing challenge this year! It's kept me writing even during the most difficult semester of school I've ever faced, and I'm incredibly grateful for the monthly prompts serving as little reminders to keep writing through it all :)

--------------------------------------------------------

At this time of year, this late at night, no one would willingly venture into the forested backyard of Hawkins.

No one except Steve.

The elements keep him company while he wanders.

The smell of tree sap and pine.

The sound of wind howling past, of a far-away owl taking flight.

The moonlight dancing through branches. The faint glow from his flashlight, illuminating patches of snowflakes falling from the sky.

The feeling of splintered wood beneath his hands and freshly fallen snow crunching under his boots.

In different circumstances, this would probably be calming.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to feel calm when you’re barely 20, you know that monsters are real, that they live under your feet, and that you’re responsible for protecting the world from those monsters making themselves known in the most violent of ways.

So Steve can’t be calm under the circumstances- not when a new smell could be a sign of something coming, every sound could be a monster behind him, the flicker of his flashlight could mean that he’s stumbled into the Upside Down, and a branch beneath his feet could be a monstrous tendril, ready to grab on and kill him once and for all.

Steve tightens his grip on his bat- feels a splinter dig into his palm, ignores it.

His eyes sting in the cold air. In the hours since he’d begun his patrol, snow had slowly melted through his jacket and left him shivering under the layers of damp fabric.

He stifles a yawn, then digs around in his pocket for a cigarette, finding one and lighting it with a shaking hand. He takes a drag, tries to calm the anxiety creeping up on him.

A branch snaps in the woods behind him. Steve drops the cigarette, turns towards the noise, raises his bat, and doesn't think about the horrors he's about to face alone in the dead of night.

What he wouldn't give for someone to be here with him. To hold the flashlight, to keep him steady, to yell when there's danger, to fight alongside him-

No. This is his fight. His responsibility, his burden to bear.

Another twig snaps, and Steve is transported to the tunnels in 1984, to trying to save the kids from a swarm of Demodogs while they were all underground, helpless, not to mention his head trauma-

Footsteps, heavy but not heavy-like-a-monster, approach. Steve widens his stance, readies his bat to swing, takes a deep breath, and-

Oh.

Eddie is a few yards away, his worried expression illuminated by a tendril of moonlight.

"Hey, s'just me. You with me, sweetheart?" Eddie raises his hands above his head as he takes another step forward, and Steve has to stop himself from taking a responding step backwards.

Steve lowers his bat as Eddie draws closer. He allows himself to be pulled into Eddie's embrace, lets himself to be guided home by Eddie's light while his boyfriend whispers comforts that ease his anxiety better than a bat and a night alone in the woods ever could.

unconventional tree tradition

For @steddiemicrofic December prompt ‘pine’

wc: 508 | rated t | cw: mild innuendo | tags: established relationship, domestic fluff

🌲🎄🌲🎄🌲🎄🌲🎄🌲🎄

“Isn’t a Christmas tree usually a pine tree?” Steve asked, tilting his head as he took in the “Christmas tree” that Eddie found.

Found. Not cut down. Not bought. Found.

Steve was looking forward to hearing that story, especially now that it was obvious the tree he’d found was what he saw on the side of the road on the way to work.

“Well, yes. But the place on Davis Street only had huge ones left and the place downtown is charging $15 for a shitty tree! Once this ones got lights and shit, it’ll be fine,” Eddie shrugged. “Speaking of lights!”

Eddie ran from the room, leaving Steve looking at the bare tree in a hand-me-down tree stand.

Their first year in their tiny two bedroom house just outside of Hawkins was proving to be…difficult.

It wasn’t the living together part, they’d already been doing that for over a year. It wasn’t even owning a home in general, Steve had already been used to taking care of a home and land on his own for years when his parents left town.

It was realizing that they were doing this, living together, committing to each other, planning a whole future.

This was the first year they could really make their own traditions for Christmas. Last year, they’d still been with Wayne, and Steve had been hesitant to impose, not that he’d had many traditions anyway.

“I found a brand new box of lights!”

“You keep saying that.”

“Saying what?” Eddie handed him the box of unopened colorful Christmas lights.

Steve resisted a shiver at the memory of Joyce Byers begging for some sign of life from Will with lights just like these. “That you found these. And the tree.”

“I found them! What, do you think I stole them?” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and let his smile turn into a frown. “You know me better than that, Stevie.”

“Yeah, it’s just kinda weird that I mentioned needing a tree last night and now we have one. And this brand new box of lights just appeared when you needed them.” Steve didn’t feel bad about being suspicious, not when he didn’t believe in coincidences. “Also, we agreed on trying to find a pine tree in Indy right?”

Eddie’s face fell. “Yeah.”

Well, shit. Now Steve felt bad.

“Eds, it’s fine. We can make this work! We may need another box of lights, though,” Steve went to pull him into a hug, trying to comfort him the best he could, but Eddie took a step back.

“No, you’re right. I just got excited,” Eddie sighed. He grabbed the box of lights from Steve’s hands gently and turned to leave the room.

But Steve wasn’t having it. He took one more look at the tree and then tugged Eddie back to his body.

“Steve-“

“No. I love it. I love that you found this stuff for us. I love you.” Steve kissed his nose.

“You’re just sucking up to me.”

“Not yet, I’m not,” Steve winked.

Eddie smirked.